


The Chocolate Bar Pact

by predominantly_normal



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Slurs, Stalking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predominantly_normal/pseuds/predominantly_normal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is when you'd do anything to protect the people you care about. After killing Pacifica's violent ex-boyfriend, Candy can attest to knowing this better than anyone. </p><p>(Candy/Pacifica)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Catalyst is Pink

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN GRAVITY FALLS
> 
> Look, man. It's a totally feasible ship. Don't look at me like that. The kids are aged ambiguously 15-17. 
> 
> DO NOT read this story if you are uncomfortable with subject matter depicting abusive situations, violence, stalking, death, homophobic/racist/sexist slurs, and swearing.

The Catalyst Is Pink

I want to get something cleared up right away and say that I never intended for him to die. And if I did intend for him to die, I certainly didn't intend to kill him myself.

I'm sure you've heard some horrible rumors about me and about who I am. I'm sure you've heard rumors about her, too. I'm not stupid. I know these fabrications exist. And honestly, I find the extents to which someone will lie in order to make a story interesting _baffling_.

So let me get something else straight- I'm not telling you this because I'm the type of person to care about my reputation. I'm telling you because I can't stand the thought of strangers discussing her around their dinner table as if they knew her. As if they knew us.

And so I vow that everything I tell you within the confines of these simple words will be the truth, and nothing but the truth.

And you will just have to honor the notion that I am not a pathological liar.

Pacifica Northwest held my hand as we walked around the destroyed manor. It was covered from the porch steps to the roof shingles in toilet paper and egg yolks. The cold sun set a backlight against the massive house, and in the shadow of the place, I shivered.

The brick walls were coated in black spray paint. Pacifica squeezed my palm as we read. We hadn't gotten the chance to do so the night before.

_DIE FAGGOTS_

Pacifica closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. Her breathing was as shaky as my state of mind, which came to me as no comfort.

Pacifica led me inside, both of us having too much to speak about and nothing to say. It was economic scarcity in the form of words.

The interior of her house was almost untouched- save for a shattered window and a brick in the middle of her living room. The room smelled of dew and morning chill, and I could see the little particles of dust floating about the white sunlight that streamed though the impossibly high windows.

Pacifica's house looked like a church. It was the kind that used its donation money to make the building grand to please God while simultaneously denying the homeless who wanted to sleep on the pews.

I walked about the foyer as if I were walking about a hospital- with a definite destination in mind, but the reluctance to acknowledge it.

And suddenly, what happened the night before crashed upon my shoulders, and my legs buckled under its weight. I caught myself on one of the walls and slid down the rest of the way, drawing my knees to my chest and jamming my head into my hands.

"Candy?" Pacifica gasped, kneeling down beside me.

I looked up at her, and found that the sun made her icy blue eyes look as if they were painted with glow stick solution. With tremor-filled hands, I traced the bruise on her jaw. The patch of purple and black didn't make her look at all fragile or precious- but rather Pacifica, that beautiful girl, made the bruise look impossibly delicate.

"This was a mistake," I murmured.

Pacifica sighed and sat next to me, staring at the wall across from us, but not really looking at it. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"How could you have known?"

"I don't know. God, maybe I should've stayed."

Pacifica frowned. Her cheeks were flushed, and one could see the clean path of tears that had flowed down her face relentlessly the night before.

"Don't think that," I said. I held out my hand, and she took it gently.

She rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. She's had a long night, but so have I.

"Give me your phone," I said.

"Already?"

"It'll only be worse the longer we wait."

"Okay," Pacifica relented, passing me her cracked cell phone. I dialed the emergency number, and I felt the dial tone ring in synch with my pounding heart. I almost hoped foolishly that nobody would pick up.

"I'd like to report a homicide," I said as soon as the operator picked up. There was a brief pause in which one could hear the wires holding the suspension of disbelief waver in the wind. With an obnoxious throat-clearing noise, the man informed me that police would be at my location in an instant.

I thanked him and hung up, passing it back to Pacifica.

I tried to take in everything about her. Her golden, un-brushed hair, her freckled cheeks, the thinness of her fingers wrapped around mine.

After all, I only had an instant left to spend with her. An instant to memorize what she looked like when she was looking back at me. And an instant, I realized, would never be enough.

I smiled and tried my best despite. If anything, I'm glad my instant got to be on a sunny day.

* * *

**6 MONTHS EARLIER**

When my parents came home from a vacation in a bright Nevada city, they brought home three things- a novelty knife, a debt, and the discovery that my father was a gambling addict.

I knew something was wrong the instant they walked through the front door looking rattled and exhausted. That was how someone was supposed to look _before_ a vacation, not after it.

I looked to my mother's tired face and asked her what had happened. I had long defeated the horrible speech impediment called Foreign Accent, but my parents hadn't, and thus, all conversations with them were held strictly in Korean.

My mother told me quietly to go to my room and leave her and dad alone for a moment. I nodded and complied. Though as soon as I got to my room I pressed a cup to the door and listened through it.

I was a natural eavesdropper, and had come up with intricate ways to get information. However, my mother had been less than thrilled when she found my wire taps and thus I'd since been downgraded to solo cups. I didn't really want to spy on my parents, but I figured that if something was wrong, I deserved to know. This was my family too.

As soon as I tuned into their conversation, I cursed and threw the cup across my room. They were speaking in Chinese. Of course they were.

With a Korean mom and a Chinese dad and an American home, you'd probably think I had a pretty extensive understanding of language. And I guess I did- because Korean came to me as easily as English did and vice-versa. But for whatever reason, I never picked up Chinese. And since my parents knew about my history of _covert intelligence seeking_ , I guess it would only be natural for them to speak in the one code I couldn't decipher if they wanted to keep something from me.

So I sat against my door, settled my head in my arms, and waited.

They would only tell me hours later that they had lost more money than the owners of a shabby 'Oriental' restaurant could ever hope to regain. We didn't need a fortune cookie to realize that the loss of our house would be a very real possibility in our future.

On the bright side, they'd found a Swiss Army Knife at a Nevada gas station coming home with my name on it. Literally. _Candy_ was etched into the wooden handle, along with the words _'Now Leaving: Fabulous Las Vegas!'._

I pocketed it out of obligation, and found it hard to sleep that night.

And at roughly the same time, Pacifica Northwest was breaking up with her boyfriend of the past two years, Arden Strazio.

And as petty as her problems may seem in comparison to mine- I swear, they're more related than one might think.

"Oh my god, you look bad today," Pacifica Northwest said as she approached me during our lunch period.

I only shrugged. I was too tired to pick a fight, and I didn't even think she was being particularly mean. The insult might've even been her way of trying to show me some sympathy.

I appreciated it, at very least. Not even my best friend, Grenda, seemed to notice anything different about me.

"You're too kind," I said to her, only managing a small glare.

"Ugh- no, I mean- can I talk to you?" Pacifica stammered, eyes flickering around the cafeteria. It was then I realized that her makeup was just a bit smudged, and that her hair was hardly brushed. She was wearing a Grateful Dead shirt that definitely wasn't hers and a jacket that was three sizes too big.

They both smelt like boy.

"Sure," I said, brows furrowing. "Let me just ask my friends if they'd mind."

This was a joke. Grenda and I had been split up for lunch and study hall, so I was stuck sitting alone on the bench.

The bench was far away from the rest of the tables and right next to the stairwell, so it was pretty well-hidden from the rest of the _not_ -friendless population of students. This, I assume, was so they could spend their lunch period eating in peace instead of feeling bad for the lonely Asian kid (or even worse; feeling obligated to offer said Asian kid a seat at their table).

"You do that," Pacifica said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm kidding," I assured her. "What do you want?"

Pacifica grimaced and took a seat. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and then composed herself.

And then she looked me right in the eyes and stiffened her jaw and Pacifica Northwest said to me, "I want you to date me."

At first I didn't really comprehend what she meant. I mean, I understood each word individually, but when strung together and forced out of Pacifica's mouth, they were like a whole other language.

"Say that again," I prompted, head spinning, "slower, please."

"Don't you speak English? I said I wanted you to date me," Pacifica snapped, drawing out her tone condescendingly. "Look, Chiu. It's not like I like you, and it's not like I'm some kind of dyke so you don't have to get too excited. I'm just trying to make someone jealous."

I frowned, cheeks red. "Who?" I asked, adjusting my cat-rimmed glasses.

"Does it matter?"

"I think it does."

"Ugh. Fine. Do you know Arden Strazio?"

"Your boyfriend," I nodded. It didn't matter if you never talked to Pacifica Northwest once in your life- if you lived in Gravity Falls, you knew that she belonged under Arden's football-throwing arm. It wasn't something to be jealous of- beautiful people just happened to go together.

That's how it was.

Pacifica sighed. "Well, I caught that asshole cheating on me two days ago. Cheating. On _me_ , Pacifica Northwest."

I pursed my lips. "I can't imagine why."

"Oh fuck off, Chiu. God knows you don't get any," Pacifica sneered, glaring at me hard.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

Pacifica drew her lip up in disgust before looking down at her lap. "Anyways, I was wondering what I could do to piss him off. And then I realized that if he saw me with the most pathetic person at this school, it'd show him that he's not so special and that I'd go for _anyone."_

"Do you really want him to think you're easy?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"It's not about _me_ , Candy. It's about making _him_ feel replaceable. Like nothing. Like how _I_ felt watching him feel up Lisa Woods' lumberjack-y, unshaved legs."

I guess if I were Pacifica, I could better understand her twisted logic, but I wasn't, so I could only hope she wasn't totally losing it.

"So you're only talking to me right now because I'm the most pathetic person you know?"

"Wrong. I'm offering this to you because you're the most pathetic person I know who _also_ showers regularly."

I was torn between feeling insulted and complimented. Pacifica wasn't holding me to a very high standard, but at least she held a standard at all. At the same time, this was totally degrading, and I had my standards too.

"Go ask someone else," I snapped, dismissing her with a wave.

"I'll pay you," Pacifica blurted. "Name your price."

My ears perked. As much as I hated the prospect of being the romantic equivalent to a prostitute, the promise of money was a strong one.

"My dad talked to your landlord earlier this week, and he says you need some money or else you're getting evicted. I could pay off the house expenses if you'd do this _one_ _little_ _thing_ for me," Pacifica said, grinning like I imagine a snake might if it could. "And let's be real here, it's not like this could be bad PR for you."

I feel as if someone dug a lit cigarette into my chest. "You only asked because you knew you could do this to me," I glared at her.

"Ugh. No. I picked you out because you're _pathetic_. Don't you listen? Look, I could bribe anyone in this school, and I chose _you_."

"I feel blessed," I rolled my eyes.

"So you'll do it?"

I stared at her long and hard and thought about my options. I could lose my house, or I could date a girl who was almost as pretty as she was mean. I never considered myself partial to girls, but you didn't need to be partial to anyone to get that Pacifica Northwest was hot as hell.

Then again, I did have dignity.

I looked down at my shoes and felt my gut wrench. Someone had written I EAT DOGS in permanent marker on them when I fell asleep in study hall a few weeks ago. I'd tried to scratch it out, but it still stuck out like a sore thumb.

So I used to have dignity. Whatever.

I bit my lower lip and held out my hand. Okay," I said, "but I'm doing this for my family. Not you."

"How did I know you'd say something like that?" Pacifica asked, grinning. She looked as if she were going to grab my hand, but then quickly maneuvered her hand to my jaw and tilted my face to the side and kissed my cheek.

I froze, eyes wide and face burning.

"Aw, look at you. See, maybe this won't be so horrible for you after all," Pacifica teased, making a show of wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She threw her shoulder bag on and winked.

I tried to retort, gritting my teeth and scrambling to bury the redness on my face in my sleeves. All that left my mouth was a half-formed insult and hot air.

"Look, after school tomorrow, let me take you out to dinner," Pacifica said, looking down at me in amusement.

"You're really trying to sell this, aren't you?" I huffed, feeling my cheeks cool down in the same way molten lava might cool down into a blazing fire.

"Arden's not a fucking idiot. If I'm faking, he'll know. We have to develop chemistry, okay? Believe me, I don't want to spend my Friday night with you either," Pacifica said with an exasperated sigh, as if she were suddenly regretting her decision to fake-date someone who might actually question her.

I took in a deep breath. "Okay," I agreed reluctantly.

"Great," Pacifica said, giving me a smile most reserve for toothpaste commercials. "It's a date."


	2. It's Not Sick to Wonder

It's Not Sick to Wonder

Her eyes looked like ice.

Or maybe they looked like the color of my laptop's power button LED. Either way, they were very bright, and very blue.

And it was at this moment I decided that we looked absolutely _ridiculous_.

"Don't you dare break eye contact, Chiu," Pacifica snapped, her brows furrowing. I giggled a little, because I did _not_ wake up today ready to deal with this white-people spirituality bullshit, and yet here I was despite.

"I don't think this is how it works," I offered her a small laugh, looking down. I never understood the phrase 'piercing gaze' until I stared into Pacifica Northwest's eyes for a solid two minutes. She looked like the type of woman to attach knives to her stilettos.

"So do you look into the souls of all the guys you go out with on the first date?" I asked, snickering.

"Whatever," Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Look, studies show that looking into someone's eyes for a long period of time can help develop intimacy. And now we have to start over."

"Wow," I snorted. "I didn't peg you as a 'studies show' kind of girl. Does this mean you actually _do_ know how to read?"

"Shut up, Chiu. I'm not as much of an idiot as you might want me to be."

I shrugged. I guess she did deserve a bit of a break- she went through with her promise to treat me to dinner. When I told Grenda about the whole ordeal, she just laughed and said something about both of us marrying rich.

I don't think she really understood the 'fake' concept of this whole fake-dating thing. Although I might've just been too thankful that she didn't question me going out with another girl at the time to care.

In fact, the only thing she _did_ tell me was to take advantage of the situation. I'm not proud to say I let Pacifica pay for everything- but she wouldn't let me split if I asked.

"Uh- thank you," I said suddenly, feeling just a bit rude. I bit my lower lip and looked away.

"Huh?"

"For dinner? I should've said it earlier but-,"

"Don't even mention it," Pacifica assured me. "It's nothing to me. Literally."

"Oh. Okay," I said, staring at the dirt underneath my fingernails.

I sat for a moment, chewing at my food and trying to ignore the nerves chewing at my gut. Fake or not, I had never been on a date before. And I had even found some decent clothes to wear- a striped sweater and some jeans without holes.

"So how do you know this is even going to work?" I said suddenly. "I mean, what if Arden doesn't care?"

"Arden's like, the most psycho-possessive guy on earth. Trust me, this'll drive him up the fucking wall," Pacifica said.

"Maybe if I was another guy," I frowned. "What if he doesn't see me as a threat because I'm, you know," I gestured to my chest. As diminished as it was (curse you, mom) my boobs still definitely existed.

"Are you kidding? You threaten his possession of me _and_ his masculinity. What's not to be threatened by? Look, Candy, Arden's a homophobic asshole. If anything, you being a girl will probably just piss him off more."

"Okay," I relented.

Our conversation was cut off by the buzz of Pacifica's phone. "Arden," she informed me, flicking open her messages. "God, he left, like, twenty."

"What do they say?" I asked, leaning over the table to peer at her screen.

Pacifica rolled her eyes and tilted her phone inward. "Nothing important or even remotely creative. A lot of ' _Babe, I want you back_ 's and heart emoticons, and like two ' _fuck you, bitch_ 's."

"Creepy," I said, raising my brows.

"He's coping," Pacifica huffed. She stood up and tossed her food out, closing her phone and smiling at me in a way akin to those posing for family pictures. "You know, I always thought your eyes were black," she remarked.

I averted her gaze immediately, feeling my blood rush into my ears. "Really?"

Pacifica made this noise between a giggle and a snort and waited for me to finish my food before taking my hand. One would never guess, but between us, my hands were softer. I took it as a personal victory.

"So, Candy," Pacifica drawled, leading me out of the food court and swinging our arms like only experienced couples might, "I figure we should come up with a meet-cute or something stupid like that."

I laughed. "A meet-cute?"

"You know, like how we met and how you totally fell head over heels for my radiant beauty at first sight."

"Ah yes, the only thing that outweighs your _radiant beauty._ Your ego," I said, shoving her away from me gently before gingerly re-fixing our fingers.

"So what's our meet-cute?"

"We saved the world together," I said with a smile. "And I couldn't help but notice the way your hair flowed in the breeze as I was fighting the literal illuminati devil in a Pacific-Rim styled tourist shack."

"Ugh. Smart ass."

"But that's really what happened. Don't you recall?" I smirked, squeezing her hand tighter and wearing a shit-eating grin. Pacifica glared at me.

Hey, if I had to be with her against my will, it might as well be entertaining.

We walked into a clothes store that I had only ever window shopped at before and buried ourselves among the racks of satin and polyester. Pacifica seemed to stare uncomfortably hard at my body at one point, and I shrunk behind a clothes rack to hide.

"What are you doing?" I asked, poking my head between a pair of white blouses. Pacifica rolled her eyes and dragged me out again, eyes scanning up and down my body as if it were trying to read my measurements.

"What size are you?" Pacifica asked, a firm hand on her hip.

My eyes widened. "I am _not_ letting you buy clothes for me," I said, gripping my sweater tighter. "Isn't this a _fake_ date?"

"Absolutely. Which means it's all about public appearance. And you are _not_ making an appearance in _those_ things." She gestured to my clothes and I felt as if she had just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

"I happen to _like_ these things, thank you!" I snapped, flushing a bright color and jerking my head away.

I'd been made fun of my clothes since I was old enough to understand that some people didn't get all of their stuff hand-made by their mothers. Just like my voice and the shape of my eyes, it was something that pegged me as an outsider. I deviated from the Group and therefore I was an anomaly. And anomalies were usually best eradicated.

Pacifica didn't understand my attachment to the jeans I found in the boy's aisle or the sweaters that definitely weren't bought unworn. She didn't understand that I could be proud of something that was usually a result of desperation, and not choice.

I suppose someone who lives at the top of the mountain doesn't think to realize that the air at the bottom is thicker.

Pacifica frowned and leaned on one leg. "I'm not getting you an entire wardrobe, god. I just wanted to get you a few things. I mean let's be real, you don't really do yourself a justice with those baggy things."

"Do you ever wonder why nobody likes you?" I asked her, biting my tongue only after I'd said the words.

Pacifica tightened her jaw. "Fuck off, Chiu. Why are you being so damn difficult anyways? I'm trying to be _nice_. God."

"I don't care if we're not really dating. You will like me as I am," I snarled, crossing my arms and staring her in the eyes. I think what she said about eye contact really did have some validity, because I definitely felt _something_ going on there, even if it wasn't chemistry. Even if that something was me wanting to totally deck her.

"I don't have to like you," Pacifica said, her voice a thin layer of sheet-metal. "But if you want to stay in that nice house of yours, you better fucking like me."

I winced, feeling a tartly familiar sensation of smallness.

I glared at her with as much hate as I could posses and fought back the tears that sprang to my eyes.

Suddenly I was back in middle school, being told that I was a whore because all the clothes I wore were from the year before and fit me a too tightly and had holes in weird places no matter how much my father sowed them up. And I remembered being cornered by Pacifica in the locker rooms at gym- her holding my school clothes high above my head as two of her friends held me back and laughed.

And I remembered the pictures that went around like wildfire the next morning.

And I remembered wearing loose clothes for the rest of the year and feeling ugly whenever I noticed the way they sagged around me.

A feeling like that never really goes away, even when the reason behind it does. Believe me; I'd love to erase what happened in the past. But you can't erase what isn't written in pencil.

My lower lip quivered and Pacifica groaned. "Ugh. Don't start crying on me, loser," she snapped, drawing me into a hug.

I fought it, pushing myself away and glowering at her. I bit the inside of my cheek to ground myself and subsequently tasted something akin to the metal of a penny.

"I don't like you," I said, my voice freakishly even. "I'm doing this for myself, and for my family. And I am not letting you change my clothes because you don't want to be seen with someone who you think is below you."

"Fine," Pacifica sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had the weirdest smoldering glare aimed at me. I mean, weird until I realized that I had totally just stood up to her to her face.

I let my head fall as I acknowledged my mistake. "You're not going to replace me, are you?" I asked hesitantly.

"No," Pacifica said.

We walked around the store in silence, hardly even looking at anything. I frowned and crossed my arms, feeling increasingly insecure of my stupid sweater. It was cheap, and it hung in weird places that didn't compliment my body at all (not that there was much to compliment in the first place). And if my hair were any shorter, I might be mistaken for a boy.

Maybe Pacifica was right. Maybe my clothes were too shoddy to make an appearance.

Pacifica seemed to notice my distress. She found my hand and slipped hers around it, and I succumbed to the warm physical gesture with embarrassing eagerness. "Look, Candy. If you were really that ugly, I wouldn't be dating you. I'm trying to make _Arden_ look bad, not myself."

"I thought you wanted someone ugly to make Arden mad," I mumbled.

"No, I wanted someone pathetic, but it's apparent you're not really pathetic, either."

"Thanks, I guess."

Pacifica smiled and squeezed my hand and I squeezed hers back. I tried to close my eyes and imagine that maybe this wasn't a fake date. I tried to pretend that I was just spending another night with my girlfriend.

Of course, the very thought disgusted me immeasurably.

Pacifica felt her phone buzz again. She untangled her fingers from mine to check her messages.

ANSWER ME, YOU WHORE. I SEE YOU.

I shared a wide-eyed glance with her and we instantly looked about.

Arden was hard to find in almost any crowd. He was average all around- tall, but not too tall, handsome, but not too handsome, and his hair was the kind of dirty blond in which the wearer often claimed it was brown if only to dispel any possible confusion.

"Let's get out of here," Pacifica mumbled, leading me out of the store. My heart pounded as the trail of text messages followed us like savage and starving dogs.

I KNOW YOU'RE READING THESE.

Pacifica and I climbed down the escalator.

STOP RUNNING.

We rushed into the most densely packed area of the mall that we could find and huddled by a garbage can.

I'LL FIND YOU.

Pacifica's breath stuttered as she called up her chauffer to take us home (yeah, did I mention she was rich?). Her voice wobbled like a tower in the wind, and her hands sweated almost as violently as they shook.

She looked as if she were on the verge of tears.

YOU DIRTY WHORE.

I nudged her to the wall and blocked her from the rest of the shoppers with my body, grabbing her and pulling her into my chest. I don't know why it became my first response to soothe the near-hysterical girl, but it felt right. And Pacifica started to relax, so I couldn't argue with the results.

Pacifica eventually got a call from her chauffer and tugged me outside to the car, practically shoving me in the back seat and telling the driver in shallow bursts of words to take us home as fast as possible. The driver gave me the evil-eye, as if _I_ was the one who'd threatened her.

Pacifica hugged herself tightly, staring out the window and jamming her eyes shut.

I LOVE YOU.

"I'm sorry," Pacifica frowned.

"He's crazy," I replied, shocked at how my voice had too, become shaky. "Did he ever do stuff like that before?"

Pacifica shook her head, but replied, "a few times."

"Is this really a good idea?" I asked.

"God," Pacifica said, almost laughing a little. "I sure fucking hope so."

* * *

I didn't want the driver to take me home. I made him drop me off at Grenda's instead.

Over the years we'd developed something of a trust. This trust ensured that whenever one of us was having a personal crisis, we could go to the other's house to vent. And maybe we'd figure things out together.

I didn't know if what I was having right then qualified as a personal crisis, but I also figured that it didn't really matter. I knocked on the door feverishly, eyes darting around in wild search of Arden. I was paranoid by no means, but if Arden somehow meant what he said in any of those texts, I'd be wise to keep my back from facing one direction for too long.

Grenda's dad, a big ex-football player, ushered me in as soon as he saw me. As far as familial ties were concerned, I was no less of family to him than his own daughter.

"Candy Chew!" He said brightly, ruffling my hair and closing the door behind me. "You look fancy today. Hot date?"

I only grinned meekly, which was all he seemed to need.

"Who is he? Is he a jerk? I'll cut him another asshole," Grenda's dad promised. I laughed. The apples in Grenda's family never seemed to fall too far from the tree.

"No, she's nice," I promised. "Is Grenda home?"

"Well, Candy, gentleman's honor prevents me from cutting any extraneous assholes into any ladies- as jerky as they may or may not be- but I'm sure if you ever need her, Grenda'd do it for you. Anyways, she's upstairs. Go have fun, kiddo," Grenda's dad grinned widely, ducking back into the living room to catch the rest of his college football game.

God, I loved Grenda's dad.

I took off my shoes and jogged upstairs, bursting into Grenda's room.

The cool, not-quite-summer breeze blew through her window and circulated around the room. I breathed it in, calmed by its courtesy.

"OH MY GOD, Candy, you look MESSED up!" Grenda greeted, her face full of concern. Grenda was the kind of girl that, if she ever spoke in a speech-to-text translator, would find that half of her dialogue would be written in all capital letters.

"Thanks," I said, falling on to her bed besides her and wrapping my arms around myself.

"JEEZ, what happened? Was Pacifica a bitch to you, because I'LL KILL HER IF SHE WAS." Grenda pretended to punch the air. I laughed- Pacifica might be able to break a reputation, but Grenda could break a nose, which I figured was probably scarier anyways.

"No, Pacifica wasn't any bitchier than usual," I giggled. "It's her ex-boyfriend who's been freaking me out."

"EW. ARDEN STRAZIO? He's a total ASSHOLE," Grenda scowled.

"Yeah," I agreed. "He was texting Pacifica the entire night. Creepy stuff, like, telling her that he was watching her and stuff."

Grenda sat up and looked me in the eye. "He's a freak, Candy. I wouldn't mess with him," she said in possibly the quietest voice I'd ever heard her use. And just as I was adjusting to the softness, she crescendo'd again into her usual booming fortissimo. "I heard he burned down his old house before he moved here and KILLED HIS OWN MOM."

"Grenda, you have to stop listening to the girls on your rugby team. You know they exaggerate," I frowned. "I doubt he killed his own mom. Wouldn't he go to prison?"

"Huh. Maybe," Grenda shrugged.

I frowned and let myself focus on the sound of Grenda's mouth-breathing. "Grenda?" I asked after a few moments had passed.

"Yeah?"

"You don't care, right? That I'm fake-dating another girl."

"WHY WOULD I CARE? GOSH, CANDY. Look, I'd be one-hundred percent behind you even if you were only attracted to like, zombies or something," Grenda pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and grinned.

"I don't know," I said, wriggling out of her bear-hug, "rotting flesh is kind of a turn-on."

"And I totally support your attraction to it," Grenda amended as if to make a point.

"And have you ever heard of rigor mortis because-,"

"THIS ROOM IS A SACRED PLACE, CANDY CHIU. I WON'T HAVE YOU RUINING ITS HOLINESS WITH YOUR WEIRD FETISHES."

I laughed until I wheezed, and the threat of Arden seemed, at that point, very far away.

Yet against all odds, the threat of _Pacifica_ was still fresh in my mind. I sighed and curled up on Grenda's bed, tracing the pastel flowers on her comforter. Grenda slapped my shoulder playfully, which actually ended up hurting a little bit.

"Hey, are you really only doing this for the house?" Grenda asked.

I thought about it hard. And I suppose it really came down to one question- if the house wasn't in peril, would I have taken Pacifica's offer?

It was only after asking myself that question that I could confidently nod my head and sigh.

"Yeah," I told Grenda. "Pacifica can go burn in hell. The house is all I care about right now."

Grenda looked at me with something between pity and disappointment. "If she hurts you, I'LL BREAK HER FACE SEVEN DIFFERENT WAYS. AND THAT'S ONLY WITH MY BARE HANDS."

"She can't hurt me," I near-whispered, feeling the fabric between my fingers. "Nothing that ever hurt wasn't real."

"You're confusing," Grenda frowned. "That doesn't even make sense."

"It does to me," I said.

* * *

I curled up in my bed, hugging my comforter to my body tightly. We stopped using our heating and air to keep us from sinking even further in debt, but the nights were cold.

I thought about Pacifica, and I thought about the ice in her eyes, and somehow, that thought warmed me.

In the privacy of my own tired mind, I let myself imagine that maybe I _was_ dating her- that maybe we were together, and that maybe I wasn't even a little sickened by this thought.

And I swear, as I fell asleep, I heard a boy's voice whisper through the window:

" _She's mine."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving this story a read! It means a lot!


	3. I Kiss By the (Teen Romance) Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I don't care how many people don't read this fic, I'm gonna finish it because I like it.

I Kiss By the (Teen Romance) Book

The metal string snapped with a bitter ring, lashing against the back of my hand.

I cursed, clamping down on the violin with my chin to keep it from tumbling to the ground and creating even more work for myself. Hissing, I eased the instrument out from under my jaw and settled it on the lid of the piano.

Pacifica giggled as I sucked on the fresh slash of red on my hand.

"Real smooth," she said in her obnoxious, snotty, _totally_ unattractive voice. I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her before grumbling some less-than-ladylike words in Korean as I snatched the violin off the piano and pressed it against my hip.

The bridge was crooked again. Of course it was.

"Quiet, you," I groaned, loosening the other three pegs and slipping the snapped E string out. I usually never made such an amateur mistake when tuning- I must've been nervous.

To be fair, I've never had anyone watch me while I worked. Especially not someone with huge, _stare-though-your-soul_ - _blue_ eyes.

It's not like I _asked_ Pacifica to stay with me after school and bother me with the scent of her stupidly intoxicating perfume while I worked- she invited herself. I supposed that entitled kids like her were used to going anywhere they wanted to please themselves- even if the place wasn't all that interesting. Perhaps the enjoyment came simply out of knowing that you could be there and knowing that nobody would ever try and stop you from being there.

I frowned, re-adjusting the bridge before fishing through the drawers for a new E string. The plastic body of the violin shone bluntly in the light, and I scoffed. To be fair to myself- the instrument wasn't exactly quality material.

I'll just say this- Violins made in China were akin to Chinese food made in America: poor in quality, but cheap and plentiful.

Pacifica stood up, stretching in a way that made her crop-top ride even higher up her stomach (don't ask me _how_ she passed through the school dress codes). She dug through her purse and fished out a few tissues, passing them to me.

"Here, Chiu. Don't bleed all over that thing," she said.

"Generous as always," I said back with a small grin. Pacifica rolled her eyes and made a sound somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

I gingerly dabbed at the thin sliver of red. The popped string hadn't whipped back hard enough to cause too much damage, but there was definitely broken skin there. I wrapped the tissue around my hand like a makeshift bandage and kept it in place with a strip of clear scotch tape.

I buried my head behind the piano, eliminating the chance of eye contact between Pacifica and I. With quick, steady hands, I threaded the new string into place and wound it taut with the pegs. There was a quick session of plucking and tuning before the instrument was finally fixed to my liking.

I eased the violin back into its case and locked up the buckles on the side.

"So like, when did the school offer you a job?" Pacifica asked, leaning over the piano. I jolted, whipping my head up to meet her eyes.

I settled the violin case on top of the repair table, slapping a neatly written repair report on top of it.

"The orchestra director needed some free time to organize the marching band when the old teacher quit, and so I just sort of stepped in, I guess," I explained, leaning back against the table and crossing my arms over my chest.

"So what, are you into music or something?"

"I guess. I'm not really passionate, but I think I'm pretty good at what I do."

"What can you play?" Pacfica pressed. I groaned.

"If it has strings, I can play it," I said simply. Listing off two instruments was a talent. Three was prodigious. Any more than that, however, was just bragging.

"Harp?" Pacifica asked.

"Sure."

"Piano?"

I nodded and stepped over to the piano, my fingertips teasing out a tiny melody. Pacifica grinned, seemingly amused.

She looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "What about guitar?"

"If I wanted to, I suppose I could," I said. I'd only played guitar a handful of times. To be honest, I thought the instrument was overrated unless in the hands of a singer, or an expert. And I was neither.

Pacifica quirked a brow and I almost laughed, because she looked at me as if I were an alien.

"God, are you like, one of those weird savants or something?"

"No," I said, looking away to hide my flattered grin, "it's just that my parents have been forcing me to go to this really prestigious music camp since I was like, six. It's super expensive, but I get in on scholarships."

"Sounds nice," Pacifica remarked. I choked.

"Uh, no. It's not nice. All the kids are like you, and the conductors throw things," I laughed spitefully. If there were two things I picked up from music camp, it was how to play arpeggios in 15/8 time signatures, and how to dodge a broken cymbal aimed right for your shins while simultaneously playing classics by Brahms.

Pacifica rolled her eyes. "What's so bad about kids like me?"

If I were drinking something, I would've spit it out. "Firstly, you're kind of horrible," I admitted. "You're entitled and rude, and you treat money like it's the high score in a video game. Not to mention you're not exactly the intelligent type," I muttered dismissing her with a wave of my hand.

"You don't even know me," Pacifica huffed.

"But I know your type. And that tells me all I need."

Pacifica rolled her eyes. "You know, I didn't expect you to be such a judgmental bitch," she snapped.

"Said the pot to the kettle," I shot back.

Pacifica shook her head and groaned. Good. Maybe that'll show her to bother me with her distracting face and her stupid half-cut shirts while I work.

I grabbed the clipboard and finished filing out the rest of the repairs, marking what needed to be bought or replaced. Pacifica stood behind me, and eventually pulled up a chair. She sat down and crossed her legs delicately.

"I called my chauffer. He said he'll be here in twenty minutes," Pacifica mumbled.

"Okay," I said, anger dissolving. "Am I coming back with you?"

"If you want to," Pacifica shrugged.

I nodded quietly, slumping my shoulders and throwing the clipboard onto the desk. My house had been an absolute wreck since the whole bankruptcy news, and even with the Northwest family covering our expenses, money only really worked with one type of trust.

And it wasn't the trust between parents.

Fighting between parents? Sucks. Fighting between parents in two different languages? Intolerable. At this point, my only two safe havens were Grenda's and Pacifica's. And I knew that if I spent too much time with Grenda, she'd start to worry about me.

And God knows I didn't want that.

"Look, Candy," Pacifica said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "I'm sorry for what I did to you when we were kids, okay? I was like, young and stupid, and I just liked picking on people to make myself feel better about my own bitchy self. I'm sorry. But I'm older and I'm growing past it, okay? And it doesn't make it right for you to bitch about kids like me when you don't even know us."

I shook my head. "That's so easy for you to say," I snorted humorlessly. I curled my arms over my body, wishing I could melt into the walls and disappear. My clothes suddenly felt looser.

"Maybe. Whatever," Pacifica rolled her eyes in exasperation.

We sat in silence for a long time, listening to each other breathe and frantically taking in an extra gulp of air whenever the rise and fall of our chests started to synchronize (which happened with a frightening frequency).

Pacifica's hand found mine in the silence, threading our fingers with no resistance. I met her halfway, pressing our palms together and offering her a light squeeze.

"You know Arden's not here to see us," I murmured to the blank white drywall in front of me. "This is kind of useless."

"Shut up, Chiu," Pacifica replied to the floor beneath her.

I stared at her quietly, and I wondered how she could ever think that this was a good idea. And I wondered how she could ever think that _I_ was a good idea.

And maybe for a moment, I wished that I could understand her. Because maybe if I understood her, I could start seeing her as more of a girl and less of a human embodiment of a natural disaster.

* * *

Since the downsizing of the Northwest family, Pacifica was forced to settle somewhere new. The new manor was smaller, newer, and a fair bit quainter than the last. With white walls and Greek-styled columns, it looked like it was born straight from an impressionist painting.

Pacifica led me inside her room, and I nearly gasped. It was the size of a small classroom, with a bed that was probably way too cold for only one person to warm, and a huge sun window overlooking the pine-covered hill. The cotton candy afternoon glow oozed through the glass, pooling onto the floor and sticking to the walls like melted sugar.

The floor was covered in a plush white carpet, and the comforter on the bed was tucked in firmly.

The only evidence that anyone had even existed inside the room in the past ten years was the freakish absence of dust, and the haphazard mess of papers sprawled around the middle of the floor next to an open laptop.

"Let me move these," Pacifica mumbled, nudging me over. "You can take a seat on the bed."

I watched with interest as she crawled to the stacks of computer paper, looking almost hesitant to tidy it. She shook any apprehension she had in the next instant and bunched up the papers, shoving them underneath the bed. She shut the screen of her laptop.

"What were all those?" I asked quietly.

"English essay," Pacifica muttered, dismissing my curiosity with a wave of her manicured hand.

I nodded, crossing my legs 'criss-cross-applesauce' style on her bed, and feeling the satin brush against the holes in my socks. Pacifica sat across from me, awkwardly tracing her fingers along the sequin patterns in her bedspread.

I think they call it serendipity- when everything seems to be in place, and when the absence of noise is the only comforting sound one can desire. However, serendipity is the kind of feeling that is constantly fleeting, and one that dissolves as soon as somebody notices it.

I guess that was why it's so desirable. Because the conscious time we spend in serendipity was so sparse.

Pacifica noticed the calmness just as it ended.

"So," she said.

"So," I replied, almost smiling.

"So what happens when Arden asks how we got together?"

"Tell him we've loved each other since grade school, but between our tyrannical families and personal relationships, we couldn't make it work," I said cheekily, waving my hands around for emphasis.

"Until now," Pacifica said.

"Until now," I said back.

There was a tense silence between us even though there was no real source of danger. And then suddenly, the words all came out of my mouth at once, with no regard to my personal filter.

"I think we should kiss," I said. Pacifica gave me a look. I hastily added, "I mean what if Arden realizes we've never even kissed before? He'll totally know we're faking it then. You said it yourself- we've got to have chemistry."

Pacifica mulled over the idea for what seemed like an hour, but was actually just a very long minute. Between humiliating herself in front of her ex-boyfriend, and kissing the weird Asian girl, she looked pretty torn.

"Fine," Pacifica said finally. "But promise me you won't get feelings."

"Why the hell would I get feelings?"

"Because I'm a fan-fucking-tastic kisser, and the sexual tension might be too much for your pathetically adorable self."

I grinned smugly. Pacifica raised her eyebrow.

"What's with the look?" She asked, pursing her lips to conceal a grin.

"You called me adorable," I replied.

Pacifica rolled her eyes and groaned obnoxiously. "Shut it, freak," she grumbled, crossing her arms and looking away.

"You're red- this is great," I laughed, unsure if she was really even blushing. Apparently, she was, because Pacifica only bowed her head and groaned. "Pacifica, I promise not to get feelings if you promise not to get them," I said, ducking my head to look at her.

I held out my hand like I was offering her a used car, and warily, she took it.

And then Pacifica smiled smugly. I almost asked her what she was doing when she gripped my hand hard and yanked me into her, our mouths colliding crookedly and our teeth colliding together.

My eyes went wide, and then realizing I wasn't supposed to have them open, I slammed them shut. To be honest, I'd never kissed anyone before. My experience with intimacy only went as far as reading smutty romance books in great depth. Because of this, I froze, trying to let Pacifica lead.

Pacifica hardly seemed to mind (she probably realized that I was completely lost the moment she asked me to fake-date her), and she took my bottom lip between hers and pulled it back between her teeth like one might when taking a bite of a new dish.

I'd always been skeptical when reading about kissing- about how it was supposed to feel good. They were only lips, and I could probably go an entire day without noticing them. How could they feel good?

But I think I understood then, with Pacifica's fingertips grazing my jaw, and with my heart pounding against my ribcage like a hammer hitting a bell during a boxing match. I could even hear the metallic ring in my ears as it signaled the winner.

Hint: it wasn't me.

Pacifica pulled back slowly, keeping our foreheads pressed together. She threaded her fingers between mine and grinned.

"For a total virgin, you're not that bad," Pacifica laughed.

"Hey, I'm sixteen! Which happens to be the perfect age to be a virgin, thank you," I muttered back, mocking hurt.

"Try fourteen," Pacifica said, almost proudly.

I choked, "Jesus, Pacifica. How are you not on like, Teen Mom yet?"

"Shut up," Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Birth control exists."

We pulled back and laughed, amused with ourselves if anything.

"So, Candy," Pacifica said, "What if I invited you to a shady bar Wednesday night?" She offered me a coy grin, and I felt my face heat up.

"I'd say you had a bigger plan behind it," I said.

"We've got a winner," Pacifica giggled, pecking my cheek. I smiled. "Arden's band is playing there tomorrow night, and I'd really love to have you come and make him jealous."

"He's not going to be creepy again, is he?"

Pacifica ran her finger along the edge of her cell phone and decidedly shook her head. Although I knew she was lying, I couldn't help but picture us in some run down bar lit with the reflection of the neon beer signs in the smoke-filled air.

I grinned, pretending to be oblivious.

"Then it's a date," I agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who read, reviewed, Kudos'd, or followed!
> 
> Special Thanks To: My friend, Jared (Mayordeweyhype on Tumblr), who asked for the next chapter of this fic for his birthday. Happy B-Day son!


	4. So Kissing Paid Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo. I'm sorry posting is so sporadic. I was originally aiming to get this done by the first day of June, but this is only chapter four of a projected seventeen. There are some minor things getting in the way of writing however, such as, but not limited to, general lack of motivation, actually hanging out with real friends (i know, right), and trying to get my health back up to normal human standards (as in, im a very out of shape). I still aim to finish, however!

So Kissing Paid Off

I've deduced that there are only two types of people in this world- those who dress nicely because they _have_ a date, and those who dress nicely because they _want_ a date. I found myself with one foot in each box as I tore off another tight-fitting button up and tossed it across the room.

The only real dress clothes I owned were a school-bought dress that had only been worn a handful of times for our orchestra concerts. My closet was mostly packed with graphic shirts with references to shows I stopped watching in middle school, and handmade sweaters. I sighed and stuck with the sweaters, pulling a white and black striped one over my head. It was loose, and the bottom fringe was grass-stained, and it smelled like the last day of summer.

I shuffled over to my vanity mirror and practiced a friendly smile. And then I laughed, because I looked like a complete and total loser, and not even nice clothes could fix the absolute mess that was my face. Zits breached the walls of concealer I'd painted on hours prior, and my glasses made my eyes look way too small.

I frowned and turned away from the mirror, regarding it as Medusa herself.

I pocketed the Las Vegas souvenir I'd been bought and emerged from my room, trotting down the stairs.

"Why are you dressed so fancy?" Mom asked in hushed Korean. She pointed to the left and I nodded in understanding. Dad was lying down on the couch with a warm wet rag over his forehead.

"I wanted to go out with a friend," I said. "Is that okay?"

"School night," Mom said matter-of-factly. "You need to study so you don't end up like your mother and your idiot father."

"I heard that, woman!" My dad snapped from under the warm rag.

"Mom, come on."

"I said no. Tell that Grenda girl to wait until the weekend!"

"It's not even Grenda I'm going out with."

Mom never tried to hide her dislike for my loud, mannish, and messy best friend. She said Grenda was a disgrace to femininity, and _How On Earth She'd Found A Man Crazy Enough To Be Seen With Her In Public, Only The Lord Could Know._

"Quit yelling," Dad groaned, "Who is it? You find a boyfriend?"

"No," I said back, scowling. "It's Pacifica Northwest."

My mom looked up at me and narrowed her eyes, lips drawn up in growing disgust. "You did not swindle that good family did you? I am not stupid- I know our bills are being paid off."

"No, we're just friends, mom. She agreed to help us out," I explained.

"You sound like your father," Mom huffed.

"Say one more word, I dare you!" My father howled, cracking open a single furious eye.

Mom looked at him, then at me, and rolled her eyes. We managed to share a small smile. It was our signature grin- the variety of that which was typically shared between two women who knew much more than they let on. "You go now," Mom said, "and tuck in your sweater."

* * *

I parked at the side of the road, right where Pacifica told me to wait for her, and turned off my headlights.

From here, I could gaze up at her house. The proud walls shone with clean sunlight, and one could see it clearly even over the peaks of the regal pine trees surrounding it. It was a house on the hill in every way.

A shimmer of blonde hair distracted me, and as I looked down, Pacifica grinned. She was wearing a letterman that was loose on her shoulders, and a pair of leggings. Her hair was drawn up into a long ponytail that was carefully draped over her shoulder. I felt my heart race.

Hearts tend to do that around pretty things- beat fast and loud as if to scream "here I am! Love me!". Thankfully, these declarations are often left unheard.

"Sorry I'm so late," I apologized, waiting for her to buckle in. "My parents weren't too happy about me going out on a school night."

"Mom on the rag?"

"No, but my dad's _under_ the rag if that counts," I said, grinning at the look of amusement and confusion etched upon Pacifica's face.

"You're so weird. Thanks for driving me, though," Pacifica said. "If I use my chauffer anymore this month, my parents might start asking me where I'm going."

"Tell them you're out with Arden," I suggested. "It wouldn't be a complete lie."

"They know I'm broken up with him," Pacifica frowned, dismissing my comment with a wave. "And I really haven't hung out with anyone else for the past year."

I scrunched my brow and put the car back into drive, cruising well out of the distance of prying eyes before turning the headlights back on. "Not with friends or anything?" I asked.

"Nope," Pacifica admitted. "They all got super jealous and bitchy after I got with Arden, and I had to cut them out for my own good."

I nodded, feeling a sudden sickness in my gut. I stared at Pacifica, who had started to distract herself with her cell phone. I turned my eyes back to the road and took the highway out of town.

* * *

By the time we arrived at the bar, the warm sun had been blotched out by the ink and star-stitched quilt of night. The clash of neon lights bouncing off Pacifica's cheekbones only proved to accentuate how perfectly angular she was. Sharp jaw line, pointed nose, and brilliant eyes hidden by a layer of de-saturated melancholy.

She looked lovely- but not like flowers were lovely. Like your favorite song blasting through the stereo of your car at 2 A.M. on a weekend was lovely. Because the sight of her didn't make me feel warm- it made me feel alive. Alive despite the coldness and sadness, and alive despite the fact that I was only pretending.

I parked the car in the bar's lot, walking around to help Pacifica out before locking the doors. Pacifica giggled suddenly.

"What?" I asked, feeling my face go red. It was a Pavlov response to fear her laughter, but somehow tonight I found it comforting.

"Your sweater," she said simply, pointing to the wrinkled part I'd hastily shoved into the waistline of my jeans before leaving. "Only losers, nerds, and dads stuck in the 50's tuck in their shirts, Chiu," Pacifica explained to my confusion, carefully grabbing the fabric of my shirt and pulling it loose from my jeans.

"Well," I said, awkwardly crossing my arms, "I'm like, two of the three things you listed so…"

"No excuses," Pacifica quipped back. "There, see? You look good."

I examined myself in my car's side view mirror. She was right. I did look good. A little less put together, but good nonetheless.

"Thanks," I said, and then stared at her blankly. "Uh, should I hold your hand or something?"

Pacifica snorted and grabbed my hand, leading me into the restaurant. The entire place was a lot nicer than I'd imagined it- the paint was fresh, and the booths weren't torn at all. There was open seating at the bar, which was a little island in the middle of the room overlooking the stage in the back.

"You want something to drink?" Pacifica asked me as we sat down.

I nodded, "water."

Pacifica rolled her eyes, begrudgingly ordering me a glass of water and getting herself a beer with a fake ID.

"You drink?" I asked, raising my brow. Pacifica shrugged.

"Arden got me into it," she said. "My mom's way more partial to wine, but I like beer better. It makes me feel a little less like a snobbish prick."

I laughed, "You _are_ a snobbish prick."

"God, shut up already," Pacifica said in a firm voice. I rolled my eyes, but didn't fight her.

We sat in awkward silence for a long time, eyes restless. There was nothing comfortable to look at, for in every direction sat someone, and to my left sat Pacifica. It was one huge social red zone. I found myself staring at my hands, which were curled around my glass of water.

I sipped the drink like a kid with both hands pulling the glass to my lips. When I set it down, Pacifica brushed a few stray hairs from my face. Upon my quizzical look, she nodded towards the stage.

"He's up there," she said.

"Oh," I replied, my face falling. "Is he looking at us?"

"I think so."

I nodded before leaning forward and pressing my lips to Pacifica's cheek. I smiled wide, and Pacifica smiled back.

"You know," she murmured with a small grin, "we could give Leonardo and Kate a run for their money."

"Maybe," I said back.

My eyes caught Arden as soon as I looked back up. In a place like this, where two out of every three patrons had a Harley Davidson tattoo across their biceps, average people like Arden and I stuck out like sore thumbs.

He and his band had occupied the stage. A boy with black hair down to his shoulders fixed a few amps around the front and plugged in his bass, while another boy with a winter cap began to screw together his hi-hats. Arden stood in front of them, directing them with his hands as he tapped the microphone.

"Testing," he murmured into the microphone, his low voice bouncing about the bar walls. I cringed. He spoke like sandpaper felt.

After that, he grabbed a sleek blue guitar and began playing through a handful of scales. I watched his fingers in muted interest as he worked through the exercises.

"What kind of music does his band play?" I asked.

"He's a metalhead," she shrugged. "All their songs are basically the same. Do you want something to eat?"

"Sure," I frowned, watching the band talk amongst themselves.

Arden's eyes suddenly zoned in on me- black dots of quiet hatred that drove through the misty haze like searchlights. His brows furrowed in a moment of confusion as he began to target the blonde girl next to me. I grimaced and suddenly, staring Arden in the face, snatched Pacifica's hand with my own and linked our fingers.

Arden's face twisted. "What the fuck," he mouthed, clenching his fist around the neck of his guitar.

The boy with long black hair followed Arden's gaze and scowled. Glaring at me, he got up and whispered something in Arden's ear that made him nod and suck in his breath.

Arden cleared his throat and grabbed the mic. "Hey, we're the White Caps, and we're gonna play some music for you guys tonight. Thank you," he said with an air of practiced confidence.

Then he broke into a burst of notes, which all seemed to melt together in the volume of his overdrive amp. It was a sound almost anyone could achieve if only they crinkled up a piece of construction paper into a microphone. I was never partial to rock, but Arden made me even more adverse to it.

His voice never sang, but it did its job as most voices did.

I stared back at Pacifica, who was listening to the band with a depressing amount of solemn interest. A plastic basket of untouched fries sat on her lap, and out of obligation, I picked a few out and chewed on them. She sighed, taking my hand and trailing her thumb about the back of it.

"It sounds better on acoustic, I swear," she whispered, closing her eyes.

I wondered if she could ever trick herself into thinking that my soft girly hands belonged to Arden instead.

I ate quietly, watching Arden sing. Through the entire piece, his eyes never left Pacifica. They seemed to be daring her to look up at him. Pacifica hardly noticed, however, and kept her eyes trained on her shoes.

* * *

As soon as the show passed, Pacifica was ready to leave. She ushered me out of the bar without a word, her hands already tangled in her hair. Seeing her miserable made me feel some odd mixture of amusement and grief, and I quickly settled her against the brick wall.

"Hey, hey," I murmured, my arms barring her on either side of her body as if to protect her, "I'm gonna pull up, okay? Just hang out here."

Pacifica looked up at me with huge eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Candy," she whispered with genuine gratitude.

I found my car parked in the back, and turned on the heat before driving up to the curb. My eyes narrowed as soon as I saw Arden walking outside.

"What the fuck was that?" the door swung open violently, slamming against the wooden frame. Arden marched outside, shoving past his band mates to dig his finger into Pacifica's chest. I gasped and parked, hopping out of the car.

Pacifica shoved him away. "What was what?"

"Don't play stupid, bitch," Arden snapped. "Why are you here?"

I wanted badly to wedge myself between them and defend Pacifica, but I was frozen in place. I clenched my fists and looked on helplessly.

"I wanted to go out," Pacifica shot back. "Am I permitted to do so? Do I need to sign a permission slip?"

"Oh fuck off," Arden rolled his eyes. He looked to his friends and rolled his eyes as if to remark, _'Can you believe this bitch?'_ He turned to me and snorted. "And what's up with the Asian?"

"She's my girlfriend," Pacifica frowned.

"Girlfriend? What, are you some kind of dyke or something now?"

"Fuck off, Arden," Pacifica snarled. Arden's band mates laughed at her and _oh'd_ in mocking response.

"You just open your legs for anybody, don't you?" Arden sneered, laughing bitterly. "What, is this some kind of sick revenge joke?" He leaned in until his nose was a mere half-inch from hers. And suddenly my last thread of common sense snapped, and I couldn't take it anymore.

I barreled past him and grabbed Pacifica by the shoulders, smashing our lips together. I pulled her into my chest and slid my fingers around the back of her head, sifting through her soft blonde hair. Pacifica put up no resistance to my advances, even sighing a bit as she began to relax into my movements.

And then I pulled back, glaring daggers into Arden's skull.

"Did that look like a joke?" I snarled.

Arden reared back. "Dude, that's fucking nasty."

"I don't know, I thought it was kinda hot," said the boy with long black hair.

"Sick, man," Arden growled, swatting the boy upside the head. "That's my fucking girlfriend."

" _Ex_ -girlfriend," Pacifica said, grinning triumphantly.

Arden flipped us off. "Fine, whatever," he huffed. "If you wanna be a fag now, be my guest. I don't give a shit. Come on guys, let's get out of here."

Arden stormed away and slammed his fist against the brick wall. His band mates shared a look before following after him.

As soon as he walked out of eyeshot, a smile began to make its way across Pacifica's face. She looked at me with bright eyes. "He called me his girlfriend," she said simply.

And somehow, I found the hopeful glint in her eye to be the saddest thing about her.

* * *

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off closer?" I asked, squinting in the pale light to make out Pacifica's face. She'd instructed me to turn off my headlights, and we'd driven into the clearing I'd picked her up in. A single lamp post behind us offered a feeble orange glow, but sans that, I had only the moon to map out my surroundings with.

Pacifica frowned and shook her head. "I don't want them seeing you."

I nodded, parking my car and unlocking the doors. Pacifica didn't move for a long while, instead occupying herself by drumming her long fingernails against the dashboard. I wished that she wasn't so pretty. It's easy to let go of ugly things.

I let a grin tug at the corner of my lips. "You should go," I murmured.

Pacifica sighed. "Yeah, I know. And Candy? Thank you again."

I wasn't sure if she expected a goodbye kiss or anything, but she lingered for a moment and then let herself out, hurrying back into the cover of the underbrush. I sat for a moment, studying the way the orange light bounced off against the pine trees.

And then I pulled out, found my way back to the road, and turned on my headlights.

* * *

I drove past my street for the seventh time in a row, heart racing. I'd been suspicious at first, but now I was sure of it- the silver minivan drifting dangerously close to my bumper was definitely following me. I glanced at my side view mirrors cautiously, only to again be blinded by the minivan's glaring headlights.

I veered right and felt my foot twitch on the gas when the minivan followed me down yet another residential street. I had hoped to wear my pursuant out by going in circles, but so far an hour had passed and they were still following with hungry intent. Even worse, my gas tank was rapidly draining. The meter already wobbled in the deadly red-zone.

With terrified hands, I dialed the only number I could trust would answer at a time like this.

"HEY CANDY, WHAT'S UP?"

"Grenda, thank God," I breathed.

"YOU OKAY, GIRL?" She said. She talked even louder over the phone, as if she were worried her usual ear-bleeding volume might get lost in the receiver.

"I'm fine," I assured her, "but this car's been following me for the past hour, and I'm sort of freaking out right now. Should I be worried?"

"ARE YOU SURE THEY'RE FOLLOWING YOU?"

"I've been going around the same block for like an hour and they're right on my tail."

"OH MAN THAT SOUNDS BAD."

"Uh yes, that would be pretty bad."

The sudden roar of an impatient engine shook me to my already-chattering teeth. And because the minivan was an eco-friendly hybrid, the growl actually came out as more of a whine. I wished the car behind me were a huge rusty truck or something- I could die honorably under the mud-caked wheels of a threatening truck. If I died via a soccer mom's dream vehicle, I'd probably die a second time out of humiliation.

"MY DAD'S COMING. WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I've been going around Birchcroft Drive for the past twenty minutes. Tell him to hurry up, please."

"DEFINITELY. I'M GOING WITH HIM SO STAY ON THE PHONE WITH ME."

"What if a cop comes to pull me over for distracted driving?" I asked, forcing out a weak laugh.

"IF A COP WAS THERE, YOU WOULDN'T NEED TO BE TALKING TO ME."

My soft laugh was cut short by a violent lurch. I stopped my face inches from slamming into the wheel, and turned around. Staring into the dented hood of the seething minivan behind me, I decided suddenly that silver was a petrifying color.

I blared my horn hard, hoping someone would hear me. I should've found a better place to get harassed in, however, because all of Birchcroft Drive was inhabited by mostly elderly people in need of hearing aids. As if the street wanted to personally mock my misfortune, I passed by a sign that read, CAUTION, DEAF PEOPLE IN AREA.

Just as the minivan began to rev up for another fender-bender, another set of headlights joined it.

"WE'RE HERE, GIRL. NO NEED TO FEAR," Grenda yelled, and for once, I found that her voice was the perfect volume. I sighed and relaxed my shoulders, carefully watching out my mirror as Grenda's dad drove next to the car and rolled down his windows.

Her dad had the type of car I wouldn't mind getting crushed by. It was a huge jeep- the kind people take on weeklong hunting expeditions. I saw Grenda's dad's red face peer out of the driver's side window and holler.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU FREAKIN' KIDS? FOLLOWING A GIRL AROUND LIKE CREEPS- I OUGHT TO HAVE YOU JAILED." Grenda's dad was under the impression that uttering the F-word around girls should be a federal offense, and refused to even let the curse slip in his rage.

I heard tidbits of a chillingly familiar voice over Grenda's phone. She obviously had it on speaker.

"No sir… got lost, sir… wanted to make sure… was safe," Arden said.

"SHE KNOWS WHERE SHE'S GOING AND IF YOU EVER- _EVER_ , GO NEAR HER AGAIN I'LL HAVE YOU SO SORRY, YOU WON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOURSELVES," Grenda's dad roared.

To my relief, Arden and his buddies peeled away pretty quickly after that.

"You alright there Candy Chew?" Grenda's dad asked as soon as the headlights of Arden's car were lost to our eyes.

"I'm okay," I sighed. "I think they fender-bendered me though."

"They did," he said. "Your bumper's a little bit roughed up, but it's nothing I can't fix. Come on, we'll escort you home."

I almost cried, "Thank you."

* * *

While Grenda's dad explained what happened to my parents (who were probably more mad at me for being out so late on a school night), Grenda and I sat on the porch swing out back and stared blankly at the starless sky.

"So I totally didn't do my homework because I'm kind of horrible," I said, trying to think of anything and everything except the fact that I'd almost died moments prior.

Grenda apparently didn't want to play the avoiding-all-my-problems-with-self-deprecating-humor game, however, and only stared at me blankly.

"Why was Arden chasing you in the first place?" She asked instead, "Did he find out about you and Pacifica, or something?"

I sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Tough shit, girl," Grenda frowned.

"Seriously," I insisted. "Thank you for helping me out and everything, but it's really no big deal."

"You do this ALL THE TIME," Grenda huffed in frustration. "WHY won't you just tell me what's WRONG for once?"

"There's nothing wrong," I snapped. "Arden's just a fucking creep. What more is there to tell?"

"Well, why were you even out?" Grenda asked.

"Groceries," I lied smoothly. "My parents wanted me to pick up some milk 'cause we were out, and on my way I got caught up with Arden."

There are two things that one picks up very quickly in a household with strict parents. The first is learning how to speak with a filter, and the second is learning to lie through that filter. I couldn't tell Grenda that Pacifica and I had gone out. Because then I'd have to admit that I had started it. And then I'd have to admit that dating Pacifica was unsafe. And then I'd have to stop seeing her.

I decided instantly that Pacifica could never know.

"He probably figured out via gossip," I shrugged. "A lot of people saw her and I up at the mall last Friday. Maybe word got out that we were a 'thing'." I said with obnoxious air-quotes.

"Well he's a CREEP, and I'M GOING TO RUIN HIM WHEN I SEE HIM AT SCHOOL TOMMOROW."

I took in a shaky breath of relief and laughed. "Catch it on video for me," I said.

"HELL YEAH I WILL," Grenda said proudly. She suddenly got very quiet and wrapped an arm around me, tugging me into her chest. I found it very hard to resist the gesture of affection. "Should I ask to sleepover tonight?" She asked, eyes widening as she noticed just how rattled I was.

And I realized suddenly that my body was shaking, and my throat was clogged with congestion and confessions of fear. But that filter I'd fixed between my teeth wouldn't let the insecurities slip free, and so I thought them in my head instead- trapping them like incarcerated prisoners with no intention of ever rehabilitating them.

I'm scared, I thought quietly, and please don't leave me alone tonight because what I might do to save myself from this fear scares me even more.

But the only words that managed to squeeze past the filter was a choked, "Please leave me alone."

And the worst part is that she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, kudos'd or followed!


	5. The Highest Point of Elevation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is really gay.

The Highest Point of Elevation

Do you know that one feeling: the one you have at 11 P.M. on a school night, with your swath of homework scattered on the table in front of you collecting coffee rings from your seventh desperate cup of liquid sleep? That feeling when you're wasting time doing nothing but staring off into space and bartering with yourself, _'I'll go to sleep tonight and just finish this in the morning'_. You know you won't finish it in the morning, but you tell yourself that stupid lie anyways because it offers your desperate soul just the littlest sliver of satisfaction.

This is how I felt nearly every day after being rear-ended by Arden Strazio. It was a horrible concoction of shame and anxiety that pooled in my gut and climbed up towards my throat with every passing day.

And there I was, sitting at the metaphorical desk of life, staring at my papers and arguing with myself.

If I see Pacifica just one more time, Arden won't know, I figured as I biked up to meet her for the twentieth _'one more time'_ time.

After Arden tried to murder me via minivan, my parents stopped letting me drive the car around for my own good. They feared that he might recognize our rusty sedan amongst the hoard of other rusty sedans in Gravity Falls and try to finish what he started. I didn't think they had to worry- Arden was smart, and smart people rarely made the same mistake twice- but to appease them, I complied without a word.

Besides it wasn't like Arden needed to figure out our plate number to raise hell- we were the only Eastern Asian family in all of Gravity Falls, and it wasn't like he couldn't figure out who owned the Chiu Authentic Korean-Chinese Cuisine.

I shook these thoughts out of my head, replacing them with the mental soundtrack of a coach's whistle on repeat. Sure, I was a little out of shape, but Pacifica's was nearly five miles away (and uphill), and I hadn't ridden a bike consistently since I was in middle school. By the time I made it to the park clearing right below her house, I was exhausted and my thighs were on fire.

If I do this about seven-thousand more times, I might just get used to it, I thought, parking my bike and crashing against the dirt.

Pacifica emerged from the bushes soon after, wearing a polka-dotted bandana over her head and stylish sunglasses that were probably worth more than my entire life. I smiled when I saw her without forcing myself to, and beckoned her over.

"Don't hug me," I warned, "I'm sweaty and gross."

Pacifica laughed a bit and brushed off the dirt beneath her (as if that would make the earth any less covered in it), and took a seat beside me. She undid the first few buttons of her brown trench coat as the low-end city men were ought to do, and pulled out two bottles of lemonade.

I accepted mine with a breathy "thanks" and tried my best not to down the entire thing in one go.

I let my eyelids flutter shut, enjoying the cool breeze against my sweaty skin and ruddy cheeks. There's a certain smell I attach to temperatures like this, but I wouldn't know how to describe it. It's the smell of warm air and wet ground that makes people remember what summer felt like.

Pacifica had claimed that our near-daily meetings were supposed to build genuine mutual comfort and _propinquity_ or whatever, but both of us knew that was just an excuse to hide the fact that we were actually beginning to enjoy the presence of one another.

Crazy, I know. But Pacifica wasn't such horrible company as one might expect. She was a lot smarter than she let on, and seldom rattled on with small talk unless there was a silence that demanded to be filled. She talked about everything intelligently: clothes, boys, other people, herself- and preferred to talk in the same voice she thought in. Ultimately, her favorite things to talk about were the things I had no interest in: fashion magazine interviews and politics.

Pacifica smiled up at me as we quietly drank and watched the pine trees as they rustled. I think I smiled back, but I'm not sure.

"I like your sweater," Pacifica said, gesturing to the ratty pink pullover I'd dressed myself in this morning. "But it's tucked in and you look like a dork."

"A sin indeed," I said, not moving to unfix it. "Have you considered that I like my sweaters tucked?"

"It's not flattering," Pacifica shrugged.

" _I'm_ not flattering," I retorted, snickering at my own self-deprecation.

Pacifica frowned and bit down on her lip, and I sighed, my grin falling. I didn't honestly expect her to take to heart the aftermath of her bullying, but she did. And I think she figured every negative self image I had of myself was solely her fault.

Which it kind of was, but I was totally over it, so it's not like it mattered now. And she was starting to make me feel guilty by her feeling guilty.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, "You're right, I look weird. Let me-,"

"You don't have to," Pacifica cut me off. "I mean, now that I look at it, you kind of pull off the look. You've got a good waist for it."

"Nah, it's fine," I insisted, sitting up on my knees and tugging the fabric free from my faded jeans. "It's not really me who tucks in my clothes anyways. My mom makes me."

Pacifica seemed to settle for that, though she still wore the same look of shameful scrutiny- as if trying in any way to see if I was subconsciously trying to cover myself.

Suddenly, the relaxed silence seemed suffocating, and I stood. "Do you want to go for a walk? My legs are a little less tired now," I said, gesturing to the bike I'd used to pedal half a mile uphill on. Pacifica nodded, looking just as eager as I was to escape the quietness.

Past the clearing was a hiking trail that led deep into the thick of the forests. The cliffs were sharp here, so to prevent any wandering from the safety of the trail, the city had put up sturdy wooden fences. Despite, these fences did little to steer curious kids away from the call of adventure.

Before the Northwests moved into the house at the peak of the hill and turned it into private property, the clearing had belonged to the city and was a popular picnic spot. Grenda and I used to hop over the fences and explore the caves and ledges that the nature trail didn't reach.

I smiled and sucked in a filling breath before grabbing Pacifica's hand and dragging her into the forest. Pacifica laughed, mentioning something about me being weird before following along with me. We ran to the edge of the nature trail, where the path turned sharply left and began to loop back around to the beginning. It wasn't nearly far out enough to satisfy me. It felt too safe- too much like a hamster cage.

Out of habit, I looked for any stray people before gesturing over to the fence with a jerk of my head.

"Where are you going?" Pacifica half-asked half-laughed.

"Find out," I replied simply, swinging a leg over the fence. It was a lot easier to climb than I remembered it being.

Pacifica gave me a questioning look, but said nothing, hopping over as well.

"We are free!" I announced as soon as both her feet stood outside the fence.

"Oh my god, it's so muddy here," Pacifica whined, staring at her shoes. "This better be worth it, Chiu."

I laughed, dissolving into the bushes and letting my instinct and muscle memory lead me to my destination. I wished that Grenda were here- we hadn't done this in a long time, and it didn't seem right to come back without her.

We trekked over a stream and scaled a wall of rocks that was weathered away at a climbable tilt. Pacifica huffed as we hopped over a tree branch.

"Come on, where are we going?" She whined. I couldn't find it in myself to consider the sound annoying.

"Just over here," I said, holding her hand as she jumped from the log to the ground below.

Pacifica gasped, eyes wide, and barreled past me. I watched with amusement as she inched herself as close to the perilous edge of the cliff as her fear would allow. "Oh my god," Pacifica whispered as if anything louder might be carried away by the wind.

"Welcome," I introduced her, "to my favorite place in the world."

The cliff side led down to a large bridge that linked the two sides of the Gravity Falls basin. And from the top of it, one could watch over the entire city. The sleepy town was painted in lovely hues of sunburned pink and orange by the setting sun, and sparkles did ballet across the surface of the lake at the far end of the valley.

I confidently walked right up to the edge and sat down, my legs swinging over the side. If Pacifica were feeling particularly murderous, all it would take to end me would be a gentle shove.

Pacifica bent at the knees as she approached me and clung to my shoulders. Her fingernails dug into my skin, but I hardly minded.

"How did you find this?" Pacifica asked.

"How didn't you?" I coaxed her in to something between sitting and kneeling, and let her sling her arms around my waist for good measure. "Grenda and I used to explore past the fences, and one day we went really far and ended up here. Before your family made the land private property, I used to come up here all the time to read and think."

I leaned back until my back touched the grass, forcing Pacifica to let go of me. She frowned, but said nothing, placing a cautious hand on my arm before flattening herself to the ground and inching her nose over the edge. Her clothes were getting dirty and grass stained but she was too caught up in the moment to care.

During this, I somehow found the consideration to take out my phone and snap a picture of myself at the peak before sending it to Grenda. I made sure not to add Pacifica in frame.

Grenda messaged me back shortly with an image of her wiping an imaginary tear in a 'How could you?' fashion. There was a feeling of conflict for a moment before I pushed it away and let myself relax. My fingers traced the edge of the well-loved device, running over the power button.

And then there were lips on mine, and my phone was forgotten in an instant. I instinctively lifted my hands to support Pacifica's waist as she settled her legs on either side of my stomach (a perilous position considering our proximity to the highest elevation point in Gravity Falls) and cupped my jaw with her gentle hands.

I let myself lose it (something I've been doing a lot lately) and fell into Pacifica's step, kissing her back with equal fervor. She still had the aftertaste of lemonade in her mouth. If anyone ever questioned the validity of our fake-relationship, they now need not bother. Even a casting director could see that our chemistry was nothing but natural.

I used to fear the edge of the cliff- I used to imagine a strong wind or an untied shoelace would send me flying over it if I wasn't careful. I used to stare at it over the top of a book I'd only pretend to read and think of things that would disappoint my parents. But right then, away from Arden, away from every prying eye in the whole universe, this ledge was my kingdom.

I gently ran my thumbs over Pacifica's hips and she broke away for a moment to sigh. All of our meetings to 'build propinquity' seemed to end this way, and I couldn't tell who was at fault for it: Pacifica for initiating the kissing every time, or me for never pushing her away.

Pacifica kissed me once more before breaking apart to breathe, her nose still pressed against mine. I opened my eyes, and hers were still shut. I shifted my hands from her hips to her face and tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear as if the golden strands were made of breakaway glass.

"I'm sorry, Candy," Pacifica murmured, eyes still squeezed shut. She always apologized after we kissed, and I couldn't tell if she was sorry because she kissed me, or sorry because she knew that I was starting to love that she kissed me. Either way, it hurt.

I frowned and looked away, trying not to let the pain in my chest spread to my face. "It's fine," I said with a weak grin. "Building chemistry, right?"

Pacifica smiled in what I could only imagine as relief and nodded, "right."

She got off of me and stared off the edge of the peak, watching the way people looked when they were so far away. "Do you ever wish you could see your entire life like this?" Pacifica asked. "It seems so simple from this angle."

"Yeah, I think that would be nice," I hummed, watching the way the setting sun made the shadows below me seem bigger and bigger with every passing minute.

Pacifica stared at me in a way that made my poor beating heart feel as if someone had actually heard it. I scowled and stared down at the dirt under my fingernails, trying to quell the pounding against my ribcage. This wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to hate her. With all the shit she'd put me through, why did I feel the overwhelming urge to forgive everything in an instant?

I won't get feelings, I whispered to myself. I won't get feelings, I won't get feelings. After this mess is over, she'll find a real guy to date and I won't be hurt because _I won't get feelings._

"Hey, dork, quit looking so depressed," Pacifica broke me from my thoughts.

"Sorry," I said, looking up and trying to capture the last glimpse of the sun and burn it into my memory. I'd taken lots of pictures up here, but no image could ever amount to the feeling of actually existing hundreds of feet above the rest of the world, and so I didn't really bother anymore.

"It's a beautiful town from up here," Pacifica sighed.

"Yeah," I said. "Everything looks nice from a hundred feet away."

"Wonder why that is?"

"Probably because you're not close enough to the sidewalks to see that they're littered on, and not close enough to the people to hear that they're not always honest."

"Are you talking about all of Gravity Falls, or just the used car lot?" Pacifica asked, laughing a bit.

"Both," I said, managing to squeeze out a pathetic little smile.

And we sat for a moment, letting peace chase us as we left our battles hundreds of feet below. I am not an overly-sentimental person, but I grabbed my phone and snuck a quick photo of Pacifica gazing carelessly over the town. I guess I wanted it to remember us by when Pacifica forgot about me.

"What do you want to be when you're older?" Pacifica asked suddenly. It was a common question, but because it came from Pacifica's mouth, I knew it was Big Talk. She never asked exactly what she wanted to know, and this was both parts infuriating and wonderful.

I shrugged, fidgeting with my hands to keep from touching hers. "I don't know," I said honestly. "A doctor, maybe. My parents want me to study so I have a good life."

"What do you consider as good?"

"Alive," I laughed, "and fed. And able to pay for my own house."

Pacifica looked away almost guiltily. I couldn't imagine why, but the way her lips curved down made me feel something awful, so I amended quickly, "What do you want to do?"

Pacifica ignored me and pressed her lips to my cheek. "I'm getting cold," she murmured.

I frowned and stared at her for a long time. When it became evident that she wasn't planning to answer my question, I sighed and relented. "Let's go back, then."

I stood up and stared out into the expanse of land below me. The sun had finally fallen behind the horizon, and only a weak amber glow remained to paint the sky. The street lights, one by one, began to flicker on. Even in the dim light, Pacifica glowed, her long platinum hair brushed carefully behind her ears. I quickly took off my glasses and cleaned them on my sweater sleeve. This was not a sight average enough to be settled on through smudged lenses. This was extraordinary.

I let out a long breath and smiled. Maybe I was a loser who tucked in her sweaters, and maybe I'd never find anyone to love who loved me back, but right then, I felt invincible.

I held my hand out to Pacifica and took one more mental snapshot of the world around me before leading us back down the cliff. It was a lot easier coming down than climbing up thankfully, and I found myself with a leg over the fence just as it was getting too dark to see.

We walked back into the clearing feeling like new people, and stared at each other like fascinated strangers.

"I've got to go," Pacifica murmured.

"Okay," I said.

"Here, Chiu," Pacifica said, moving forward to grab the hem of my sweater. She tucked it into my jeans, tugging out the fabric just like I did. It looked just like it did only a few hours ago. "A parting gift," she remarked.

I smiled, "Bye," I said without thanking her. She lingered for a moment like expensive perfume before turning on her heel to perform her favorite magic trick in which she would disappear into the bushes and reappear in her house as if she had never stepped foot outside. As if she were a good little girl.

I watched her as she stepped into the bushes, and before she was gone forever, I found the urge to yell. "Hey!"

Pacifica turned.

"Uh," I stammered, "Spring break's coming up really soon. Did you maybe want to go somewhere with Grenda and I? We were thinking about driving up to the boardwalk by the beach." I felt my heart pound. Despite the few dates we'd gone on and the days we'd spent together, none were ever initiated by me. I'd never even asked a boy out- not to mention the most powerful teenager in Oregon.

"Oh god," Pacifica said, a look of pained horror on her face, as if she were having a heart attack.

My eyes widened, "Sorry, I'm sorry!" I yelped, waiting to be verbally smacked ten different ways.

"No, it's not that," Pacifica whispered. "I'm just freaking out because the idea of hanging out with you and Grenda on my own will actually sounds kind of _fun_. Oh god, Chiu, what are you doing to me?"

I clutched my chest in relief. And then I grinned. "Maybe dorkiness is a contagious disease?"

"If that's the case, I hope it's terminal," Pacifica huffed. "I'd rather die than start tucking in my shirts."

We shared a laugh. And then we said our goodbyes, and Pacifica disappeared into the underbrush. As soon as she was out of my sight, I turned on my heel and picked up my bike. I didn't look back as I sailed down the hill I'd slaved to pedal up earlier.

I didn't even pedal, smiling as I tore down the hill with the world on my back and the wind through my hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a comment, follow, kudos, or simply a read. It means the world.


	6. We See the Lovely Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will sing for an empty crowd, man. I don't give a shit.

We See the Lovely Things

There is a very simple rule of thumb when going on a road trip with a group of people who share a mutual grudge for one another: have music everybody enjoys.

And if anybody ever asks- that's the reason my spring break started off a complete and total disaster.

With our book bags stuffed snugly in the back of Grenda's jeep, and our bodies clothed in t-shirts and shorts, all we had left to do was put on the radio and pick up Pacifica. Which was- as most things are doomed to be- easier said than done. Grenda and I sifted through her CD case (yes, those things still existed) in search of one that might agree with all of us.

Grenda stopped me as I was flipping though and ripped out her favorite CD- an illegally burned mix of songs our parents loved before we were even born.

"I've been DYING to listen to this," Grenda said, inserting the CD and turning up the volume. Soon, we were taken away by the old croon-y moan-y vocals that marked the slow-going rock sound of the sixties.

"I sincerely hope Pacifica doesn't mind the Beatles," I said.

"If she doesn't like this kind of music, THERE'S GOTTA BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER. These are CLASSICS."

I laughed and leaned back, enjoying the breeze that blew through the half-open windows. I sang along to all the songs I knew, even though I wasn't partial to them. My theory goes that if you listen to any song long enough, you will eventually begin like it due to familiarity. And that theory can be applied to a lot more than music.

"Let's get this show on the ROAD, GIRL," Grenda whooped, turning her key in the ignition. Her car growled to life.

"Hey," I spoke up, "You don't really mind me inviting Pacifica, do you? I mean, I know we were kind of planning this for a long time, and-,"

"It's FINE," Grenda assured me. "I would TOTALLY bring my boyfriend if he wasn't all the way in STUPID AUSTRIA."

"She's not my girlfriend," I grumbled.

"GOD, CANDY. You know, I wouldn't care even if she WAS," Grenda sighed, turning to meet my eyes. I frowned and looked at my shoes.

"But she was even more horrible to you than she was to me," I reminded her.

Grenda knitted her brows, made an exasperated throaty sound, and turned away. She set the jeep in reverse and we listened to the Righteous Brothers as we drove. The morning sun shone kindly on us, and there wasn't any unwanted heat or glare as it hit the windshield.

The song ended, and a new one began, and suddenly, Grenda smiled.

"Candy, listen," she said, her voice hushed as if she were telling me some huge secret, "this song's my favorite."

I let a smile peek at my lips. _Stand By Me_. Of course.

* * *

Pacifica kissed me when I ran out to meet her. As soon as I saw her peek out of the bushes, I quickly pulled my shirt from the waistband of my shorts and raced out. I stopped just short of tackling her and smiled with my teeth.

"Hi," she said as if I were a stranger.

"Hi," I said back in the same fashion.

She had a single bag slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing some waterproof makeup she showed me a few days ago. I didn't know it was even possible to be as materialistic as a Northwest without being impractical, but somehow she pulled it off.

Pacifica smiled. "You look good in a T-shirt. Non-baggy clothes work for your figure."

"You're horrible," I laughed.

"I'm totally serious! Look at those hips," as if to make me red on purpose, Pacifica made an hourglass shape in the air with her hands.

"Oh my god," I groaned, nudging her and taking her bag. I tossed the purple drawstring into the trunk with the rest of our stuff and hopped back into the front. Pacifica sat in the middle of the back so that her elbows could rest on the console between Grenda and me.

She buckled up, and Grenda hit the gas. After about twenty seconds of peaceful driving, Pacifica spoke up. "God, this is like the stuff my weird uncle listens too," she frowned, staring at the radio. "Can we put on another station?"

Grenda gasped. "HOW CAN YOU HATE THE 'STONES?"

Pacifica made a face between perturbed and concerned. "I don't know. Never mind. We can leave it on," she said, turning to stare out the window. My face burned, and I suddenly felt the urge to stare down at my sneakers. God, why couldn't Grenda just talk like a regular human being?

Grenda tapped her fingers on the wheel, and her foot twitched on the pedal, sending us about ten miles above the speed limit- disregarding the hoard of chevron alignment signs that forewarned drastic curves.

"God, so Arden hasn't texted me in like, two days. I'm getting nervous," Pacifica said, trying her best to light a conversation on a soaked wick. She looked up at me as she scrolled through her texts with him.

"Maybe he's finally ready to let go," I shrugged. The thought made me feel sick.

"I don't think so. He's planning something," Pacific grimaced.

"Maybe if you LEFT HIM ALONE, HE'D LEAVE YOU ALONE," Grenda sneered with a stiff jaw and set eyes.

"Are you saying this is our fault?" Pacifica asked. It was a weird phenomenon when someone's mixture of confusion and anger is potent enough in which their only possible expression is a bright, dumbstruck smile. I stared at Pacifica's wide-eyed grin and felt my blood run cold.

"I'm not saying ANYTHING," Grenda argued. We were now edging on fifteen miles over the limit. We veered down another curve, and I checked the security of my seatbelt once again.

"You're definitely saying something. I'm not going to get mad or anything- so just say it."

Grenda obviously didn't understand that people didn't always say exactly what they meant, especially in Pacifica's case, and so she spoke without further reservation. "Well, I think you should stop INSTAGATING him. It's NOT LIKE I'M ON HIS SIDE, but you know that line in that one kid's rhyme? The _eeny-meeny-miney-mo-catch-a-tiger-by-the-toe_ one? WELL, ARDEN STRAZIO IS THE TIGER AND YOU'RE PULLING HIS TOE."

Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

"YOU ASKED TO KNOW."

"Can you both please stop fighting?" I huffed.

"I'M NOT FIGHTING," Grenda insisted- though her constant unyielding volume contradicted her claim.

"Look, Grenda, I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand my situation, but we literally haven't done anything. Arden's being a jackass on his own," Pacifica said, which I knew was a huge lie. Grenda was right- we had instigated him: we'd kissed right in front of him, and we'd humiliated him. But of course, I couldn't tell her that.

"What does he even WANT?" Grenda huffed, exasperated.

"He wants me to be as sad and miserable as he is. It's the only way a thick-headed jock with emotional issues like him can feel big."

I felt my heart beat behind my ribcage. Grenda had taken control of her temper and slowed down by now, but I still felt as if we were making turns at forty miles per hour. "Pacifica, how violent do you think he'll get?" I asked cautiously.

"I wish I knew. I know he had problems before I dated him-,"

"AND YET YOU DATED HIM ANYWAYS."

Pacifica side-eyed Grenda viciously, "-but I didn't know how bad they were. He just seemed a little impatient and maybe a little hot-tempered. I never expected him to be like this. If I had to guess, he'll only get worse from here."

I nodded and closed my eyes, folding my arms across the dashboard and resting my head on them. I felt a strong bear-sized hand rub my shoulder, and I could do nothing more than wish it would stop. "I'm okay," I whispered, but the hand did not retract.

"Look, I'm sorry," Grenda said, her voice finally at a stable volume, "I just don't want you guys to get hurt. You're like, my best friend, Candy. You know that. And after what already happened with your car-,"

"Wait, what?" Pacifica asked, and my blood ran cold.

"It's fine!" I said quickly, sitting up and keeping my eyes firmly on the dashboard. Both of them stared at me. The air took on the consistency of cough syrup.

"You seriously didn't tell her?" Grenda asked.

"It wasn't even that bad!" I defended sloppily. "It was only a fender-bender."

"Only because my dad SAVED YOUR ASS. HE COULD'VE REALLY HURT YOU AND YOU KNOW IT."

I winced and bit my lower lip.

"Wait, what happened?" Pacifica demanded. I slammed my eyes shut and braced my elbows against my knees, bowing down to rub my temples.

"Candy was going out for groceries and YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND tried following her home for like, AN HOUR. He HIT THE BACK OF HER CAR, and she probably would've DIED, BUT SHE CALLED MY DAD AND HE MADE ARDEN GO AWAY."

"Oh, right. How could I forget?" Pacifica said, her voice akin to the sound of a steel string on the verge of snapping. She glared at me like a prosecuter glares at their cornered defendant- daring me to speak.

I didn't say a word. Not a single one.

* * *

There were a few scattered motels around the boardwalk, but we'd already decided that sleeping in Grenda's jeep would be cheaper. So we paid a few bucks to get twenty-four-hour access to the parking garage, and found a secluded little area to set up camp.

Pacifica and Grenda had been stiffly exchanging small talk during the drive to keep us from being trapped in silence, but I could tell they were both at their limits.

"I can just get us hotel rooms," Pacifica offered, frowning.

"It's not about the COMFORT," Grenda insisted, "It's about the EXPERIENCE."

"Yeah, well it's going to be a pretty shitty experience if we spend it crammed in the back of your car," Pacifica snapped.

"THEN GO BUY A ROOM IF YOU WANT, BUT I'M STAYING HERE. RIGHT, CANDY?"

Both looked at me expectantly, and I felt my body freeze. I didn't like this. I stared at my shoes and spluttered out something that might've had the potential to be a good compromise between them had I simply spoken evenly. Pacifica rolled her eyes and cut me off.

"Whatever. We can do whatever you want."

She gave Grenda one last glare, and then walked around to the other side of the car and crossed her arms, leaning against it and staring at the garage wall.

I sighed and inched up to Grenda, "I-I'm sorry, I-,"

"NOT IN THE MOOD, GIRL. STEP OFF."

I nodded quickly, and, worried that I might start crying, turned on my heel and started marching towards the boardwalk. I just needed to be away.

"Hey," Pacifica called out. Against my own good instinct, I turned. "Where are you going?" she asked. Her voice was so gentle- as if she knew I was already on the verge of tears. I smiled weakly and jerked my thumb over towards the beach.

"For a walk," I said.

"Can I come with?" she asked.

I wiped my eyes quickly. "Sure."

I heard a snort of exasperation from Grenda and an "of COURSE," muttered under her breath as Pacfica jogged over to me. I took her dainty fingers in mine, and as I walked away from the car, I felt my chest squeeze.

But then Pacifica kissed my cheek, and I suddenly forgot all other reservations.

The boardwalk was a bigger sellout than the Mystery Shack- it was basically composed of several fun houses, wax museums, and haunted houses- all of lackluster quality and extraordinary pricing. A Midway buzzed with the same arcade games we had at home, and there was a rough 3:5 vender-per-foot ratio about the stretch of boardwalk.

Pacifica sat on the steps leading down from the boardwalk to the beach. I sipped a drink I'd bought from one of the countless vendors, and sat next to her, offering it. Pacifica accepted reluctantly, sipping it and scrunching her face up at the bubbly taste.

"Chiu, you know I don't drink that stuff."

"Whoops, sorry," I shrugged, drinking the rest of my peach soda.

"We should go to the wax museum after this," Pacifica hummed.

"Which one?"

"The one with the movie sets," she clarified. "The first one."

"Okay," I grinned, "sounds good."

We sat in silence for a while, staring at the sun until it made our eyes tired. Pacifica rested her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my waist. I combed my fingers through her hair mindlessly.

"I'm sorry she put you on the spot like that," Pacifica started.

"I'm not mad. We were all upset," I shrugged. Pacifica began to trace circles into my leg with her fingers.

"You're too nice," she muttered.

I frowned but said nothing else. Pacifica's head eventually began to migrate to my lap, and after awhile, she stopped tracing circles. When I looked down at her, I was hardly surprised to see that she was beginning to doze off. I sat back up and brushed her hair back behind her ear.

And then I realized what I was doing, and my heart beat faster. She's still in love, I reminded myself, she's still in love, and it's not with you. I stopped before I could feel that horrible squeeze in my chest again, and settled my hands at my sides.

It hurt to remember that she still cared about Arden Strazio more than she would ever care about me, and so I forced myself to think about other things. The homework I still had to finish. The book we were reading in English. The instrument repairs I'd completed the day prior. The Pines Twins returning to Gravity Falls in two months.

The Pines twins. I hadn't seen them since they left the year prior. I frowned as I thought of meeting them at the bus stop.

I guess I was always little jealous of the Pines. They were heroes. They were protagonists of epic proportions. They made everything work out, and they made it look easy. And of all the people on earth who wanted to save the world, they were the only people who I truly believed could actually do it.

I let my eyes flicker down to the sleeping girl before me and smiled sadly. I supposed we'd never be heroes after all. Though for some reason, I found that I could care less.

* * *

When we returned to the jeep, Grenda already had the backseats pushed down and was listening to the summer mix we made a year ago. She was lying down with her back to me, so I couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. I sighed and pushed Pacifica behind me, eyeing her in a nonverbal warning to stay.

I crawled in through the trunk, sitting next to Grenda's side. Her body stiffened.

"Grenda," I hummed.

"Are you DONE with your date?" Grenda snapped. "Or are you just going to DITCH ME AGAIN?" Her words were punctuated with a sad sniffle, and I felt my heart squeeze.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I had to get away. I mean, you put me on the spot and I-," I stopped when my apology didn't ease the pain in my chest. I continued carefully, a hand clutched over my beating skin. "No. I'm sorry. I'm just sorry. I know this trip meant a lot to you. I should've tried harder to keep the peace."

Finally, my restless conscience relaxed at the bottom of my gut in satisfied approval.

Grenda rolled over so that she was facing me, and I felt the calm pool in my stomach fall into turmoil once more. Her face was blotched and red, and snot ran down her nose. She wiped it off on her arm and stared at me with hurt eyes.

"Friends?" I asked, holding out my closed fist.

Grenda bumped it softly, "friends," she amended.

We sat there in silence for a moment to recollect our thoughts and feelings towards one another. I sat back and crossed my arms over my lap, feeling horrible. I'd made her cry. She was the most thick-skinned girl on earth, and I'd made her cry.

"It's okay, Candy," Grenda laughed softly, her voice hiccupping. Then she hugged me hard enough to fracture a rib. With her lips next to the shell of my ear, she whispered to me.

"She likes you, you know," Grenda murmured.

I slowly returned the favor and wrapped my arms around Grenda's back. "She doesn't," I frowned. "she's not that kind of girl."

"Oh yeah? What KIND of girl is she, then?"

"I don't really know- but she's definitely not the kind that does this shit," I felt my heart stab. "She's the kind that's supposed to date handsome rich boys who can buy her expensive presents. Not… whatever I am."

I'd told myself from the beginning that I wasn't worth her- but admitting it out loud hurt more than anything. I felt like a penny- like no matter how shiny and new I was, if I was dropped on the sidewalk, it wouldn't be worth anybody's time to pick me back up. Like no matter how much I tried, I'd always be worth just one cent.

I wasn't good enough for Pacifica. Hell, the only reason I had her now was because she had decided that of all the people on earth, I was the one who least deserved her.

Grenda just hung on to me. We both knew we weren't the lovely type. It wasn't our place to tell ourselves that we were. "Do you like her?" Grenda asked me. My ears went red and my muscles tensed.

I felt my heart burst with one thousand different answers. Yes, I like her. No, _like_ is a weak and juvenile word. Yes, she's so beautiful. No, I'm afraid of getting hurt. Yes, I love her voice. No, one day that voice is going to tell me that it's over.

My head spins, and so my response is stammered and choked and forced. After a solid minute, I finally manage to force out a coherent sentence. "Ever since I started getting to know her, the rest of the world has started to look bright again, and I hate it. I don't understand why I need someone else to see the good things in life. Why can't I just have myself?"

"Girl, you can't see words RIGHT IN FRONT of you without your glasses," Grenda laughed. "What makes you think you can see everything beautiful in the world alone?"

I hugged Grenda tighter. "I like her," I whispered. "I know I shouldn't- this is fake and when she kisses me, it's fake, and one day this entire deal is going to end, but I like her."

Grenda pulled away and sat down, smiling. "My little girl is growing up so fast," she joked.

I punched her playfully, "Shut up."

"Look, Candy. Someday, somebody somewhere is going to look at you and think that you're the only person in the world who matters to them, and you're going to show _them_ all the awesome stuff in the world that they didn't see before. And it's gonna be great." Grenda said, smiling sadly. "Love is a choice, you know? You can choose to feel it every day, or you can choose to spend your entire life without it. But you don't get to choose who loves _you_. That's the hard part."

"Yeah," I agreed solemnly, staring down at my lap. Grenda was too smart sometimes. Every now and again I felt like she acted loud and brutish and dumb so often just to make me feel smarter.

"Hey, don't cry. Go get Miss Bleach Blonde. I think she might be getting cold," Grenda said, jerking her head towards the garage. I smiled and nodded, my heart beating with new resolution. I liked her. I had feelings for Pacifica Northwest even though I told her I wouldn't get them. Even though I told myself I'd never get them. What a strange turn of events.

I admitted all this to myself, and I felt infinitely lighter.

I slid out of the back of the car and found Pacifica leaning out the garage window a few feet away. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, and the pink sun made her skin glow red. I walked over and occupied the empty air besides her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she said back. "Did you and Grenda talk?"

"Yeah. We're good now. Do you want to come in with us? We can go get food or something." I suggested. Pacifica grinned.

"Sounds good, Chiu."

I suddenly saw a flash of Grenda's teary-eyed face and felt a familiar pang in my chest. "Hey, before we go back, I have to talk to you about something."

Pacifica tilted her head and scrunched her brows. "Yeah?"

"I know you're trying already, but please be patient with Grenda, okay? I know she takes some getting used to, but she deserves a chance, you know?" I murmured.

Pacifica stared at me blankly for a moment before nodding. "I'll try," she said. She grabbed my hand and let me lead her back to the car. She squeezed my hand gently before we crawled in, and let go immediately after.

* * *

Sleeping in the car wasn't as bad as Pacifica thought it would be. Grenda's jeep was more than large enough to accommodate all of our tired bodies, and she fitted the back with hoards of pillows and blankets. The moonlight made its way in through Grenda's windshield, and not a sound rattled the car.

A hand shot out and grabbed me.

I gasped awake, blood cold.

I inspected the hand digging its nails into my skin and sighed in relief when it was only Pacifica. I sighed and wiped away the sleep on my face with my hand. I sat up, and felt my heart break.

Pacifica was curled into a ball, her face contorted into something right out of a horror movie. Even in the dim light, I could see her body quiver. I pried her hand from me and shook her gently.

She jolted awake and stared at me with wide, petrified eyes. I immediately put my hands on her shoulders and held her fast. "Hey," I whispered. "You're okay."

Pacifica took a few shaky breaths to process the world, and then she slowly nodded and relaxed. "I'm sorry," Pacifica said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's fine. Are you alright?"

"No," Pacifica admitted. "God, I haven't had nightmares since I was like, twelve. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," I said, "here, would it help if I slept closer?"

Pacifica nodded without saying a word and looked away. I frowned and let her go, "Alright, come on." I hooked my arm around her waist and pulled her closer, laying back down. Pacifica reluctantly followed me, tucking her body into mine. Her head was snug under my chin and on top of my arm.

I felt arms around my middle and froze for a moment before returning the favor. "So what was your dream about?" I asked quietly, eyes slipping shut once more.

"I was there in my room, hiding from something," Pacifica whispered. "I never saw him, but I'd see his shadow against the wall ever so often, and it whenever he got close I could feel him- oh god. He was right there, Candy. I couldn't do anything. It felt so _real_ too."

It's very rarely one sees a strong girl reduced to a shivering mess, and probably for good reason. Pacifica looking so vulnerable and weak made me feel exposed myself. I pushed the feeling of helplessness at arm's length, trying my hardest to focus on Pacifica.

I slowly ran my fingers through her hair. "It's okay," I murmured.

"It's not," Pacifica said, her voice cracking. "Arden's going to do something soon, and I'm so afraid he's going to hurt you for real next time. I mean, what was that whole deal with your car? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'll be fine," I said, feeling my jaw lock up. "The car incident was just a little thing, okay? Grenda made it seem a lot worse than it actually was. I didn't want you to worry." I felt my heart sink with every false word I spoke, falling deeper and deeper until it was burning in my stomach acid.

Pacifica didn't seem to notice- or maybe she was too tired to. Either way, she relented. "Okay," she said. "You promise you'll be okay?"

I stared at the dim walls of the car. I held Pacifica tighter. I relished in how warm she was. "I promise," I said.

And she believed me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a read, kudos, follow, or review!


	7. I Shake Hands with a Vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on break now! I'll have this finished real soon, I hope.

I Shake Hands With A Vampire

It came in the mail this morning.

It smelled like stale bread and smoke, and it was written on a ripped piece of notebook paper.

During our sixth grade drug unit, our teacher had passed around a little scent tree that smelled like weed. He said very plainly, that the substance had a unique odor to it; one that was as easily recognizable as it was unforgettable.

And that's what the paper smelt like- not weed, but rather some hideous mixture of weed, beer, and wet stone. I had sampled the scent months earlier on a shirt, and upon that realization, I made the connection instantly.

His handwriting was blocky and ugly, and the ends of each word slurred into the beginnings of the next, but I could still read the message.

STAY AWAY FROM HER- OR ELSE

It wasn't signed. Arden Strazio was too smart, even in a drunken stupor, to have it signed.

With hands that shook like the autumn leaves, I folded the note and jammed it into my pocket before grabbing the rest of the mail and marching back inside. I scanned through the sealed envelopes monotonously. Most of them were taxes and bills and written off house payments. I frowned. I can't remember if I ever thanked Pacifica for that.

Steadying my breathing, I tossed the small stack of mail upon the kitchen table. "Mail's here. Nothing from Korea."

Mom glanced up from her phone, face blank. She had a few sisters in Korea who occasionally sent us letters and gifts from mom's home country. Usually they just gave us tea and spices, and other stuff that we could probably pick up from the local grocery, but I think it meant a lot more to mom. She always smiled when her sisters sent mail.

"Bah, she's late," Mom grumbled in quiet Korean.

"Right, uh- I'm going to go get changed," I announced, jerking a thumb back to the stairs.

"What for?" Mom raised an eyebrow.

"I'm hanging out with Pacifica today," I said.

Mom sighed and turned off her phone, setting it face down on the table. I instantly began to panic.

"I need to talk to you about that, actually. Sit down," Mom said, gesturing to the seat across from her.

Swallowing the last of my spit, I inched towards the table and sat down. Arden's note burned through the fabric of my jeans, and suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. Mom's pretty black eyes bore into my skull as I looked down and tried to stop my restless leg.

"Candy, you have been spending a lot of time with that girl," Mom said. "You can be honest with me, you know. But you must tell me if you are taking advantage of her. It is not right to cheat a good family like hers. It is not how I raised you."

Mom's definition of a good family was a basic equation: financial security plus strong social status equaled goodness. In her eyes, we must have been failures. I wondered sometimes if she ever tried to set up the equation for us to find what we were missing- the variable x.

I sighed, relaxing a bit. "I'm not taking advantage of anyone," I said quietly.

"Then why do you spend so much time with her suddenly?" Mom demanded.

I looked sadly at my mother and felt my heart begin to collapse. Mom and I rarely kept anything from one another. When one of us felt lost, we confided in each other. Mom did occasionally look to Dad for solace, but sometimes I think she only married him because he was wealthy enough at the time to get them both into America.

So really, she only had me.

And I really didn't want her to hate me, because she was all I had, too.

I opened my jaw, but all that came out was hot air. I tried to force the words out; I even tried to lie. But I couldn't say a word. I was frozen. I looked desperately around the room for something to save me.

And then I saw it. My mother's phone, still tucked tightly in her hands.

I avoided her eyes as I asked for it. She reluctantly handed it to me. I glanced up to read her expression- something I truly wish I hadn't done- and opened her phone's notes. Slowly, deliberately, I typed. And since my knowledge of the Korean writing system was only sub-par, I had to type in easy English.

_I am spending a lot of time with Pacifica because we are in a romantic relationship. I am sorry for hiding it from you._

I read my message three times over before I felt courageous enough to give it back to Mom. The wood grain on our dining table entranced me in a way I had never before experienced. Mom frowned and looked up incredulously. Then she looked down to re-read the message before glancing up again.

"You like girls?" Mom asked, sounding as if she were trying to navigate her blindfolded voice through a minefield.

I settled my head in my hands.

"I… I don't really know," I admitted. "I mean, I know I still like boys for the most part. This whole girl thing is kind of new for me. I mean, I look at Pacifica and I know I like her, you know, like that- but I really don't feel like that towards other girls, if that makes any sense. I'm kind of in-between right now. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this all, I just-,"

Mom cut me off with a firm hand on my shoulder. I looked away from her immediately- partly in fear, mostly in shame. She cupped my chin and forced me to face her. I relaxed as soon as I saw the gentleness of her expression and her soft black eyes. Her eyes had always reminded me of warm, dark places. Those places were often shunned as sources of fear for others, but they brought me great comfort.

"Candy Chiu," Mom said, "I love you. I hope this is a passing phase, but if it's not, I will love you anyways."

I nodded stiffly, like I was a cheap fairground animatronic. My fists refused to unclench. "I'm sorry if I'm a mistake," I blurted out.

Mom looked at me in a way that made my insides turn. I had never in my life seen my mom afraid- she was a good enough mother to never let me see her in such a state- but when she looked at me then, she had this hollowness to her eyes. As if she were suddenly seeing a thousand different malwares springing up in the system of my mind.

"I love you," Mom said again. She placed her hand upon my fist, and I allowed my grip to slacken. "You are not a mistake. You are my daughter, and I am so proud of you."

If only there was something left of me to be proud of, I thought. Still, I managed a weak smile. I could feel my vision blurring, but I blinked and it cleared up again.

"Mom, are you okay?" I asked quietly once I found the nerve to speak without my voice shaking.

"I'll live," Mom said.

"Are you and Dad okay?"

"We will be, in time."

"Is the house okay?"

"Thanks to the generosity of your girlfriend, it is."

Girlfriend.

I felt my face burn at the word. I met eyes with my mother, and I couldn't contain my grin. She didn't ask if I was okay either- in that moment, I think we both knew the answer.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. And then Mom snorted.

"You know, I should not have hoped so hard that you would stay away from boys," Mom laughed. And for the sake of her, and for the sake of us, I laughed too.

* * *

The notes didn't stop because the weekend did.

The first note was bearable. He had written it while he was drunk and angry, and he had been sloppy with it. It had probably been a spur-of-the moment thing he did with his band mates behind him. But Arden was too smart to make any mistake twice.

I could now find the notes where the world never looked- through the slats of my locker, jammed into my windowsill (this is a particularly horrifying revelation when one realizes I sleep in a second-story room), and taped to the mirrors of my car. The writing was slightly more composed, but infinitely darker- like how the glassy surface of an ocean seems to recede before a tsunami hits.

SHE'S MINE

GIVE HER BACK

BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU WALK ALONE, WHORE

I tucked the notes into an old shoebox, feeling sick. I remember learning in my biology class that humans were never given a specialized trait. We weren't especially fast, or strong, and we weren't born with fangs or claws. But often overlooked was our impossible endurance. A human could exhaust any prey- following them in close pursuit and allowing them no rest until the animal inevitably collapsed.

Arden was obviously fine-tuned to this old instinct, hunting me at a sickly slow pace- never fast enough to tire me very quickly, but long enough to draw out my aching limbs and fading will. I feared that, like a hunted animal, I was on the verge of collapse.

When I woke up the next Saturday, my window was slightly ajar. I acquitted it to myself- I often opened it to let in cool air during the warmer months, but upon closer inspection, I found a little piece of notebook paper. I cursed, ripping the note from the sill with shaking hands.

I looked out the window for a moment fearfully before slamming it shut and locking it. The note felt heavy in my fingers.

YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL ASLEEP

* * *

Pacifica found me in the orchestra room, tuning a viola.

I was a bit behind on my repairs due to my sudden lack of free time, and I had to finish this girl's instrument by the upcoming spring concert seat auditions. It was a pretty clean-cut fix; just a bridge and a fine tuner replacement. It was also a distraction from the chaotic world around me.

I finished screwing in the tiny knob just as Pacifica walked in. She had a certain way of walking that spelled her out like English. With her proud chin parallel to the ground and her wide-swinging arms, I knew she was pissed.

"Chiu, what the hell? We were supposed to hang out today," Pacifica snapped, crossing her arms over the shelf of the piano.

"Were we?" I asked faintly.

"Uh- yeah? I was waiting for like, an hour up at the park."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, setting the viola back into its case and writing out a repair receipt. "I totally forgot."

Pacifica set her hands upon her hips. "Well, obviously."

I continued to work without a word, my stomach rolling like a black wave. I caught a familiar scent from Pacifica and stopped writing to look at her. She was wearing her favorite sweater on top, but under it, the faded fringes of a too-large Grateful Dead shirt sticking out made my fingers curl.

Pacifica sighed and grabbed a chair for herself, dragging it around the piano. She sat down and settled her chin upon her palm. "You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Just a little off today. Sorry for letting you wait," I replied, unscrewing a flute that had been glued together with bow rosin. I never knew how these kids did such atrocities to their instruments, but for the sake of my faith in humanity, I preferred not to ask. Pacifica watched me with muted interest as I yanked apart the pieces and began to clean them.

The quietness gave me an unusual sense of peace and safety. Foreign feelings in familiar territory, I suppose. Pacifica eventually got bored of watching me and transitioned her eyes to her phone. I didn't mind it- being next to her was enough.

I wanted to kiss her, but as soon as the idea formed in my head, a phantom voice- Arden's- whispered behind the shell of my ears.

" _Give me what is mine,"_ he snarled in time with the breeze. _"Touch her, and I'll slit your throat."_

I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a deep breath. I felt a cold, ghostly hand brush my hair behind my ears. I could blame the sensation on the breeze, if breezes could be that delicately precise. Arden's ghost laughed, and the last wisp of his taunting voice clung to me for a second more before vanishing.

" _You look beautiful asleep."_

My eyes shot open, and suddenly the world around me was too small. I tried to contain myself, subtly twirling my long hair into my fingers and tugging to pull my attention away from the suffocating thickness of the warm air. My teeth began to grind together.

"Candy?"

I jolted. "Y-yes?"

Pacifica sighed and turned off her phone. She hadn't seen me panic. That was good.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said back in a liar's voice.

Pacifica rolled her eyes and let out a sound somewhere between a huff and a snort. "You piss me off so much sometimes, you know that?" she grumbled.

"What did I do?" I knit my eyebrows.

"You act like this, but you never tell me what's going on," Pacifica said, moving her hands with the exaggerated feeling of a conductor. "Like, do you even trust me? I know we're not like, actually together or anything, but I at least thought we were- I don't know- _friends?"_

My chest bubbled up, and I scowled. "Don't _you_ trust _me_ when I tell you I'm fine?" I snapped back.

"No! Because you're so obviously _not fine!_ I'm not as stupid as you think I am, and I'm not as selfish as you think I am, and I just want to help you be _okay_ again! Fuck, Candy, you're like, one of the only people I've ever opened up to. Why can't you open up to me?" Pacifica roared.

Silence followed.

My heart pounded against my ribcage.

My lungs collapsed.

God, I wanted to kiss her.

"I'm okay, Pacifica. Don't worry about me," I whispered as gently as possible. I reached out to brush her hair behind her ear like I always did, but she ripped away from me with a disgusted glare.

She broke out into a huge, furious smile. "You're all the fucking same," she laughed, tears welling in her eyes. "You know what? I'm tired of this. I've gotta go." She shook her head, and with the most pained grin, eased away from me.

The door slammed when she left, and I was left alone in a room full of broken instruments and bleak souls.

My legs buckled, and I crumbled upon the piano bench, feeling the strongest urge to cry. Still, even with nobody else in the room, I refused myself the pleasure of feeling salt line my cheeks. I jammed my eyes shut and laid my head upon my arms.

And then I heard his voice, and this time it wasn't my imagination.

"You know, most people don't come to school on Saturdays."

I looked up in mute horror, feeling for the Vegas novelty that rarely left my pocket these days.

"Arden," I whispered.

He smiled a friendly warm grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It reminded me of a razor blade embedded in Halloween candy.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Candy Chiu," Arden said, his low voice crisp in the adjusted acoustics of the orchestra room.

He waited for a response, and when I didn't have the courtesy to offer him one, he cleared his throat and created one himself. "May I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the orchestra chairs. It felt like inviting a vampire into my house as nodded, eyes trained on him like iron fillings to a magnet.

He grabbed the front row Cello seat and sat down, leaning back like a veteran entrepreneur. Little did he know I was too poor to buy what he was trying to sell me. "I see you and my girlfriend are getting pretty close," he remarked.

"She's _my_ girlfriend," I growled lowly, squeezing my fists.

Arden snickered, "You and I both know Pacifica doesn't love you. I'm not trying to be mean or anything- I just call it how I see it. And I see that she's obviously just dating you to get back at me for cheating on her with Lisa Woods. You know this, don't you?"

"I wasn't aware," I said firmly.

"Well, you do now. And I'll tell you something else you probably don't know. And that's that I only cheated on Pacifica because we were talking about seeing other people anyways. Pacifica slept with other guys constantly while we dated. You probably haven't seen that side of her, but she's like that. That's just the kind of girl she is," Arden said, his strong voice rising and falling like the ocean sometimes did on tranquil nights.

"That's not who she is," I frowned, though I began to have the inklings of doubt.

"Like you know her," Arden snorted. "I've been with her for two years, okay? I know my fucking girlfriend."

I stood up. "She's my girlfriend," I asserted again.

"Candy, please don't make me mad. I'm trying to be reasonable here. Let's just relax and talk like mature people, okay?"

I tentatively sat back down, nodding.

"Now look, I'm giving you one offer. You have a week to return her to me. You can do whatever you want with that week; I won't come looking for you. But by next Sunday, you better have broken up with her," Arden snarled, leaning close enough for our defiant eyes to meet and our hot breaths to mix. "If you comply, I'll forget you ever touched her. We'll go about our daily lives as if nothing ever happened. If you protest, however…" Arden stood up and stared down at me. "I'll make your life a living hell."

He held out a strong hand. "Deal?"

I stared at him. I tried to remember Pacifica, but the only image I could conjure up was her disgusted expression as she left the room, and the smell of his clothes on her skin.

With poison in my gut, I grabbed his hand and shook it.

"Deal," I whispered.

Arden thanked me and walked out, whistling as he strolled out into the hallways.

And suddenly, the world was big again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has continued to keep up with this story. It means a lot.


	8. The Wind in our Sails

The Wind in our Sails

My coffee tasted like tar.

It had been four torturously shitty days since I shook hands with Arden Strazio, and I had wasted all of them. To fair, it wasn't completely my fault- Pacifica had been taking dutiful steps to avoid me at all possible costs. She refused to answer my calls and texts, and Grenda even claimed that she drew different routes to her classes to avoid seeing me in the halls.

I would be hurt if this wasn't a result of my own design. Perhaps she even did me a favor- I didn't know how I'd be able to look her in the eyes after I'd treated her like property made to be bartered with Arden.

I hadn't slept the past few nights. I'd been staying awake, staring at the fluorescent green display of my alarm and hoping it might go faster. Hoping that time might take mercy on me just this once. Of course, it never did. Time waits for no man, and it certainly doesn't wait for emotionally compromised teenagers.

I could feel the way my eyes sunk deep into their sockets, like gravity was working extra hard to make them heavy. That's what the mildly disgusting coffee was for. I'd opted out of the smooth creamer I usually dumped into my morning coffee in order to preserve a thicker caffeine-to-liquid ratio. Unfortunately, that ratio was making it harder and harder for me to choke down my liquid sleep.

I deserve this, I thought to myself.

It's a bit unsightly to wallow in your own self-pity (especially when you aren't even dressed well enough to look tastefully angst-y), but for the moment, I couldn't care more. I took another swig of my coffee and made a face.

How wonderful it is to drink something that tastes as bitter as you feel.

I suppose one good thing did come of my deal. The notes had stopped entirely- and though I still had the shoebox underneath my bed, it seemed lately to be less like an active mine and more like a vial of poison. Still dangerous- just less explosive.

"YO GIRL, I totally forgot to pick up my coffee on the way. LET ME COP A SIP," Grenda yelled as she jogged up to me. The short few minutes in which we were all at school, but school had not officially begun was one of the only times Grenda and I got the chance to talk in a normal day. It was mutually important to us to spend the timeslot together.

Grenda eyed my thermos hungrily, so I nudged it over. "Go wild," I murmured.

Grenda thanked me, took a sip, and then spluttered. "CANDY CHIU, EXPLAIN TO ME THIS CRIME OF NATURE," Grenda roared, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of her hand.

"Uh, it's coffee," I said. "I didn't put any creamer in it today, sorry."

"WHY NOT? WHY DO YOU SUFFER LIKE THIS?" Grenda asked, crossing her arms.

"I didn't sleep and I needed coffee," I said, which was at least partly true. "Besides, creamer's got a lot of calories."

"You're so WEIRD," Grenda rolled her eyes. She plopped down beside me, grabbing my coffee mug and bracing herself before tipping it back again. She choked it down dramatically, drawing a slight laugh from me.

"You're the weird one," I grinned, shoving her playfully.

"I had a double-header yesterday, and I'm DESPERATE here," Grenda shrugged. Her smile thinned out. "Anyways, how's it going with Pacifica? She sill avoiding you?"

I nodded. "More or less. I think she blocked my number."

I checked my phone compulsively. The case was beginning to lose its color from where I ran my fingers along it as a nervous habit. I don't know why I hoped to see the message notification light up- but all the same, I found myself painfully disappointed when it wasn't.

Grenda's eyes flickered to my phone, and she frowned deeply. I gave her credit for looking sympathetic, but she was so obviously at a loss. She'd told me about her occasional fights with Marius, but they could never compare to the absolute gravity of what I was dealing with right now.

Grenda looked at her hands and sighed. "Find a way," she said simply.

"What?" I asked.

"You have to fix this," Grenda said, her voice reaching a new level of softness never before heard from her (though most people liked to call this volume their regular speaking voice). "You can't just let her go to Arden again without a fight. I mean, from what you told me about him- it's not safe for Pacifica to be with him."

"But she isn't even talking to me! It's all my fault and I don't know if I can fix this one! I don't know if I can protect her. I don't know if she even _wants_ to be protected. I just don't _know_." I was breathing heavily by the end of my rant, and when I saw the shocked look in Grenda's eye, I felt every word I had just released into the stale air grow heavy and crash back down upon me.

I put my head in my hands and slammed my eyes shut tight. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to freak out like that. I'm just tired."

Grenda put an arm around me and began to rub my shoulders in smooth, gentle motions. I felt like a helpless kid drowning in a community pool. I was scrabbling for air and for the surface, but my body was dipping lower with every second, and the lifeguard was under the impression that I was just trying to pull a fast one on her.

"It's okay, Candy. We'll figure this out. You've got me always, you know?" Grenda hummed, hugging me close.

I guess it's a selfish thought, but just once in my life, I wanted to be the better friend. I was never worth anyone who stuck around to deal with me. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to deserve someone who didn't deserve you in return.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be," Grenda hummed back.

"But I am."

"But you don't have to be."

I took a shaky breath and nodded before pulling away from her. "What do I do, Grenda?" I asked, and strangely, I didn't feel at all pathetic for asking.

"You tell the truth- the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," Grenda said simply. "And everything after that is fate."

"You're too smart," I frowned.

"Nah, I just watch a lot of Judge Judy on my off days. THAT LADY KNOWS HOW TO LAY DOWN THE LAW," Grenda said, her voice rising back to its typical level. I smiled wide and stared at my feet. Grenda punched me playfully. "Seriously, Candy. You just gotta talk to her, you know? Show her that you'll go the extra mile. Fight for her if you love her. Don't you love her?"

And like I was saying my wedding vows, I nodded. "I do."

"Then GO GET HER BACK, GIRL," Grenda cheered.

* * *

And suddenly, I felt like I had the power to make things right again.

Her locker wasn't hard for me to get to. At lunch, I headed to the orchestra room under the guise of repairs. I'd learned how to forge the teacher's signature a few years ago, and wrote myself a pass.

There was an orchestra and choir class in session as I walked in. I remembered instantly that Pacifica was in the choir. She didn't see me, but I could hear her strong voice ring out above the others. It was like a lovely nail drawing calligraphy on a chalkboard.

I snuck into the orchestra director's office and found her computer. As a busy woman, she didn't have the time to keep logging in and out of our frustratingly spotty servers, so her teacher account was always open. I searched up Pacifica's schedule, and found her locker.

It probably would've been easier to just find the locker while we were in the midst of our fake-dating scandal, but Pacifica was pretty blunt about humiliating only Arden. If somebody saw the weird Asian kid next to Pacifica Northwest's locker, it might raise some eyebrows. And since word got around fast in a town with less than 500 people, there was always the threat of Pacifica's family finding out.

I hurried to her locker, ripped out a sheet of notebook paper, and scribbled a message on it. I slipped it through the slats of her locker door before running off.

MEET ME AT THE PARK AT 9 TONIGHT

It wasn't signed, but she would know. I had faith in that, at least.

* * *

I sat on one of the neglected picnic tables in the park clearing, my feet planted firmly on the bench. I stared at the gray roof of the Northwest Manor. It really was lovely. I'd fashioned a lantern out of a candle and some construction paper, and I wore my nicest sweater. Tucked in, of course.

I felt my skin burn with anticipation as the bushes in front of me rustled and Pacifica emerged. She looked hard and cold- like she had on the first day she'd approached me.

"What's the deal, Chiu?" Pacifica sneered. "What was so damn important you had to make me come out here? Do you seriously think you're worth my time right now?"

"You're here, aren't you?" I said softly. Pacifica rolled her eyes. The electric blues looked violet as the red light from my lantern bounced off upon them.

"Whatever. Just say whatever you wanted to say so I can go home and get my work done," Pacifica huffed.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for keeping everything from you, and I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't trust you."

Pacifica made the exasperated sound one makes when they are told what they need to hear far too late. "Sure, whatever. Can I go now?"

"Arden wants you back," I said, ignoring her. "After you left a few days ago, he talked to me. He said that everything could go back to normal if I gave you back to him. Pacifica, you still love him, don't you?"

Pacifica stared at me long and hard. Her eyes never softened, her glare never wavered. And god, did I feel small. She was like a show dog. She was trained to be still, and trained to conceal.

And I finally realized then that we were the same.

"I thought I loved him," Pacifica murmured. My heart fell just a bit. "But lately, I don't know if I ever did."

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pacifica snorted. "Yeah. Stupid, right? I guess what they say about teenagers in love is true. We're too young and unpredictable to love yet. I mean, I feel like I'm starting to fall for someone else, but I can't trust my own emotions anymore. But I do know something, Candy. I'm not going back to Arden, not even if you gave me away."

"I didn't give you away," I said firmly. My blood coursed through my body like chlorine through a water park. "Arden thought he understood business, but he made a mistake and gave me a choice. He said that if I gave you to him, everything would go back to normal- but he also said that if I refused, he would make my life a living hell. I didn't agree to give you up. I agreed to those conditions."

"But that's the problem. He _will_ make your life a living hell," Pacifica sighed. "I know firsthand. And I don't want to put you through that."

"That's the thing, though," I said, my face burning. "Pacifica, my life will be hell if I give you up. At least if I refuse, I get something worth making it hell. I want to fight for this, Pacifica."

Pacifica frowned. "You want to fight for a fake relationship?"

"No," I said. "I want to fight for our real relationship. As friends, as girlfriends, I don't _care._ I just don't want to sit back and let shit happen to me anymore. I don't want to lose you."

Pacifica laughed softly. She sat up on the bench with me, and stared at her shoes. She looked so perfect. My mind began to branch out with the leaves of new possibilities.

Pacifica smiled. "I don't even know you. How can I love you?"

Decidedly, I stood up and held out my hand. With a reluctant snicker, Pacifica agreed to humor me.

"Let me introduce myself," I said. "My name is Candy Chiu. I can play seven instruments- piano, violin, viola, cello, harp, bass, and erhu; I'm a compulsive eavesdropper, I've never played a sport in my life, and I'm absolutely terrified of opening up to other people."

Pacifica grinned. "You know, I think I just learned more about you in that minute than I have in the past five months."

"Kind of sad, isn't it?" I said bashfully.

"Kind of," Pacifica grinned. "Now, if I may?" she cleared her throat. "My name is Pacifica Northwest. I can play zero instruments not including my voice, I write magazine editorials in secret, and I'm afraid that I will never be enough for anyone ever."

I stared at her, and somehow she looked different. Her eyes looked duller, her skin rougher, her expression more tired- god, she looked human. And it was beautiful. I thought she was absolutely breathtaking. "It's nice to meet you," I said quietly, letting go of her hand.

"You too," Pacifica said, eyes wide.

The air around us went still, and my heart rammed against my chest like it was dying to get out of such a cramped prison cell. I'd kissed Pacifica many times before, but that was when we were fake-dating, and there were no real consequences.

But we had chosen to expose who we truly were, and therefore whatever we did now could only be a true reflection of ourselves.

I leaned forward, and suddenly, my chest burst into a million different colors. Pacifica wrapped her arms around my neck, and I set my hands on either side of her. Our faces red, our bodies warm, and our hearts beating in sync- I swore it was my first real kiss.

I smiled into it, and smiled out of it. We looked at each other in a weird, fixed stupor before laughing like idiots.

"If I don't break up with you by Sunday, Arden's going to slit my throat. Do you want to go out with me?" I said suddenly.

Pacifica laughed hard. "Chiu, you have the best pickup lines," she said before kissing me again.

I would later stare up at the stars hanging on to a girl I had just met that evening, feeling the hem of my untucked shirt, and listening to the way the trees moved around us. It was the calm before the storm- an omen of disaster. But I found that I couldn't care less.

The night was quiet, and so was she. And everything felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who took the time to read!


	9. The Calm

The Calm

It had been a gentle Saturday morning when I realized that he knew.

I suppose I should've counted myself lucky- my grace period of assured peace had been twice as long as Arden had initially offered. About halfway through the second week, I almost forgot about him entirely- imagining that maybe he could've given up. Perhaps letting my guard down was what doomed me.

We had been as cautious as possible; Pacifica continued to follow her new routes so as to avoid me in the halls, we hardly made eye contact at lunch, and never texted each other when we knew a prying eye could glance at our phones. Anyone who didn't care enough to see how absolutely elated we were underneath all the covert affection could assume that we had broken up.

Still, it was only a matter of time before Arden found out.

I should've predicted that our peace was only ever fleeting, and I should've been preparing for the day I finally felt the weight of gravity upon my shoulders. But I was a teenager in love, and I didn't care. And I made the foolish decision to entertain the idea that Arden Strazio was dumb enough to be fooled.

I found it in the mail, along with a box of tea from Korea.

It felt odd at first- cold, and stiff, and soft. Little ringlets of fuzz coiled around my fingers, and I imagined a stuffed animal from mom's sisters. My fingers closed around a loose flap, and I dragged it out. As soon I saw the eyes, I dropped it and screamed.

The severed poodle head fell to the ground with a sickening thump, rolling lifelessly on the pavement. Blood, still thick with the memory of life, leaked from the open neck. The eyes were wide and petrified, and the mouth was slightly ajar. Parts of the animal had been shaved awkwardly, leaving patches of bare skin.

The collar had a small tag on it with a crude message in pen.

DOG EATERS, WATCH YOUR BACKS

The scariest part was that this was his sober handwriting. I looked around wildly, expecting to find the rest of the animal somewhere nearby, jammed in the gutter or smashed between the window and sill. But all I could see was the poodle's head, and those horrified, pained eyes. I wondered suddenly if Arden had gone slowly with the knife.

I whimpered as I carefully bent down and closed my fingers around the dog's ear. I plucked it from the ground and carried it to the trashcan. Feeling like my arm was that of a rigged claw machine, I shakily released the severed animal into the trashcan's eager jaws.

I felt like an automaton as I slowly marched back into the house, my fingertips stained red with violence. I headed into the kitchen, and turned the faucet on scalding. I washed my hands, thinking nothing of the steaming water.

"Candy?" Mom asked, peering up from her phone.

"Your sisters brought tea," I said, tossing her the box of dry Korean leaves.

Mom seemed to forget about me, smiling and hugging the box close to her chest. "Thank you, Candy. You are a good daughter," she murmured, putting her phone down to smell the leaves. "They're fresh. Do you want some? I haven't had this flavor in ages."

"No thanks," I said. "I've gotta call Pacifica real quick, though."

"You teenagers," Mom chided absentmindedly. "Don't say anything you wouldn't say to me."

I nodded, taking off up the stairs and locking myself in my room. With hands that finally shook with life and fear, I dialed Pacifica's number and prayed.

"Hey, Candy. What's up?" Pacifica said. I felt relief flood my veins like tropical storm, and sighed.

"Oh thank God you're okay," I breathed, jamming my eyes shut and dragging my palm down my face. I collapsed upon my bed, and feeling my wits return to me, smiled.

"Candy, what's wrong?" Pacifica asked, nervousness suddenly edging her voice. I recalled the situation at hand and sat back up, standing up to check the locks on my window. "Are you okay?" Pacifica asked louder.

"I'm f-," I cut myself off. "I'm kind of panicking right now, actually. Can you come over? Please."

Pacifica was silent for a short while before eventually caving. "Okay," she said. "I'll be there in ten. You better have a good explanation for this."

I thanked her profusely before hanging up. I hoped Arden could save the other half of the dog for at least ten minutes longer.

* * *

By the time Pacifica knocked on my door, I had calmed down substantially.

"Candy!" I heard Mom yell from down the stairs, "The Northwest girl is here! Put on some nice clothes!"

I felt my face go red, but tried to think little of it. Instinctively, I stared at my reflection. Thanks to my now constant bike rides to Pacifica's, I'd started looking a little more athletic. My skin was tanner, and the excess roundness in my cheeks had begun to fade.

My face seemed older and stronger, and my back looked straighter. I almost looked, if I dared admit it, pretty.

Shaking out of my stupor, I found an ugly sweater to throw on. Because I knew it would infuriate Pacifica, I tucked it into my pajama pants before poking my head out of my bedroom and inviting Pacifica in.

Pacifica looked at me and walked in like she owned the place, settling down on my bed.

"You look like a dork," Pacifica snorted. "Why did you tuck your sweater into basketball shorts?"

"Thought it would lighten the mood," I shrugged, a half-smile on my face. I sighed heavily and made sure the door was entirely shut before kissing Pacifica on the cheek and leaning against her. She awkwardly fit her arms around me, obviously not used to the role reversal.

I pulled away for her sake, hugging myself tightly.

"So what's going on?" Pacifica asked, her voice full of concern.

"Arden knows," I said. "He knows, and he's pissed."

Pacifica's eyes grew wide. She cursed under her breath and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, this is my fault. I wasn't careful enough, and he must've seen us-,"

"No," I said quietly. "Arden's smart. He would've figured it out even if we were impeccable with our sneaking around."

Pacifica sighed. She looked at me sadly, eyes carefully taking notice of the age that had quickly begun to ferment upon my face. My now deep-set eyes and thinning cheeks offered little solace. "Did he do anything yet?" she asked timidly, as if afraid to see the answer.

I nodded. My eyes drifted to the floor, and I slowly dropped to my knees, reaching under my bed and pulling out the shoebox of notes. I quietly passed it to Pacifica, who opened it with all the fear and curiosity of Pandora herself. "He's been sending me these for weeks."

She read through them quietly, her eyes tearing up more with each passing note. "God, Candy…" she whispered, setting the notes down and reaching across the box to wrap her arms around me. I wondered idly who she was trying to comfort. "If I could erase all this horrible shit, I would, I swear."

"No, it's okay," I said, kissing the top of her head. I tried to imagine what I might be doing now if none of this ever happened.

And I realized then that a world in which I would not be constantly terrified and in love would not a world worth living in. I shrugged Pacifica off of me and smiled sadly. "I called you because I'm scared. Not for me, but for you. I don't know what he'll do to you, Pacifica. I want you to stay safe and be careful. He's out there. And we don't know what he'll do to get what he wants."

"I do," Pacifica murmured quietly. "And he'll do anything."

* * *

Pacifica requested I stay at her house that night. Both because she didn't want either of us to be split up should something happen, and also because she was sure her house was better guarded than mine. Which, to be fair, it probably was.

We stowed away in her room, and she nudged me over to the bed while she began to stuff her papers back into order. Something clicked in the back of my mind, and I managed a soft smile.

"Those aren't English Essays, are they?" I grinned, pointing to the heap of revisions.

"Ha- no," Pacifica snorted. "They're editorials I'm working on for a local fashion zine."

"I forgot," I laughed. "You actually know how to read and write."

"You're an asshole," Pacifica sneered, rolling her eyes. "And I thought I told you to stop calling me stupid."

"I wasn't calling you stupid. I'm just still in shock that you're a brilliant magazine editor and never thought to tell me," I said, laying back and enjoying the plush mattress beneath me.

"We all have secrets, Chiu," Pacifica said, stuffing the last of the editorials under her bed. She looked a bit frazzled as she shut down her laptop and ran a hand through her hair.

"But why hide it? That's all I'm asking," I pressed on, watching her with muted interest.

"I don't know," Pacifica shrugged. "I guess it's just kind of scary when everybody looks at you and sees this one thing for so long. They suddenly have expectations for who you are and who you're supposed to be. And if you break that mold, people get angry. That's why I like keeping the editorials anonymous. People don't just listen to what I say because my dad's rich. They listen because I actually have thoughts and ideas that have relevance to the world around me."

I stared at her for a moment, saying nothing.

Pacifica stood up and sat on the bed besides me, clasping her hands together. Because we always met outside her house, it was very rarely that we ever got quiet time where mosquitoes weren't eating us alive. Pacifica's shoulders slumped, and she stared at her bedspread.

"You know, when I first met Arden, it was just like this," Pacifica said. "We would sit and talk, and he always had something good to say about whatever topic I was on about that night."

"Really?" my heart sped up. Even hearing his name made my skin burn.

"You're a lot like him, in some ways," Pacifica laughed humorlessly. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

I wondered what Arden might've been like to make someone as fiercely independent as Pacifica settle down. He was a natural charmer, but I couldn't imagine Pacifica would fall for a bit of well-worded small talk.

Perhaps he was kind. Perhaps at one point, he wanted nothing more than to keep the people he loved safe. Maybe he was just a bit paranoid about the earthly dangers of this world- and never knew to what extent keeping others safe fell.

"I won't end up like him," I said softly. "And if I do- leave me."

"Okay, Chiu," Pacifica said. "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, or kudos-ing.


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